The Dark Knight Rises
by Jade4813
Summary: Lois Lane travels to Gotham to investigate Batman's connection to Harvey Dent's murder. When there's an escape from Arkham Asylum, Gotham may once again find need for its Dark Knight, and Lois may be in a little over her head. Takes place after "The Dark Knight" in place of the third movie. Lois/Bruce romance
1. The Game Is Afoot

**A/N: **Here it is, in all its unbetaed glory, the first chapter of this fic. I'm writing this as a completely unsolicited thank you to Ferd, for the amazing vids she's done over the years. I would love to steal a quote from Joss Whedon and say, "That means if it sucks, it's her fault." But I can't pretend to be as awesome as Joss. Anyway, none of this belongs to me! This takes place AFTER The Dark Knight (taking the place of The Dark Knight Rises movie that was just released). Characters are Christopher Nolan's Batman and Smallville's Lois Lane.

I've gotten a few comments about some confusion involving the timeline. So for the Batman universe, pretend that the third movie never happened. Just ignore it outright. The events of the first and second movies occurred as depicted. This story picks up about a month after the end of The Dark Knight. (It's why I called it The Dark Knight Rises - act like this is the third movie instead of the Nolan movie that was just released.) For the Smallville universe, I've been intentionally vague about the timeline to this point. It is most likely that this occurs post-Bride, taking place of the Arc of Suck. Lois left and didn't go to Star City to sit with Not-Jimmy; she came to Gotham and told the Smallville writers to suck it. I haven't pinpointed exactly that this is the case, but I don't think it'll be terribly important to the story to get the exact episode break, either.

Now, to the story! I'm working a couple of chapters ahead, in the hope of being able to update this once a week until it's finished. We'll see if I succeed at that goal!

**The Dark Knight Rises**

**The Game is Afoot**

The edges of the shaped metal were bent and twisted, destroyed by the force of several heavy blows. She ran a finger slowly across the edges of the metal form, wincing when a sharp edge nearly cut her finger. When she pulled her hand away, she carefully pulled a tiny shard of glass off the edge of her hand, before it could puncture the skin.

Lois Lane considered the broken signal in front of her. Then, acting on impulse, she plugged in the power cord and hit the switch. The outer glass of the signal was shattered; the symbol inside had been smashed. However, after flickering several times, the high intensity bulb inside the device reluctantly came on. Lois turned and looked up at the signal, where it shone against the haze of the city sky.

What had once apparently been the clean, smooth lines of a bat symbol were torn and twisted. An image as tarnished and destroyed as the reputation of the icon it was meant to call.

She was reaching for the switch, intending to turn it off, when a voice behind her made her jump. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

For a brief second, Lois wondered if the light had succeeded in summoning Gotham's vigilante. Then she turned. An older man in a rumpled suit, the lines of his body indicating the weight of the burden he carried, walked across the rooftop in her direction. When he reached her side, he leaned down and unplugged the signal. When he straightened again, she could see his anger.

Facing the ire of potential interviewees was hardly new to her, and she didn't let it get to her. "Commissioner Gordon?" she asked, recognizing his picture from the news reports she'd recently studied. She thrust her hand forward and stared him in the eye with an unflinching gaze. "Lois Lane, reporter, Daily Planet."

His eyes flickered to her hand and then back to her face once more. "Ms. Lane," he acknowledged her introduction, though he didn't take her hand. After a moment, she let it fall to her side. "Can I help you with something?"

Lois shifted. "I'm investigating the recent murder of Harvey Dent. I don't suppose you'd care to give me a quote?"

The Commissioner sighed. "You work for the Daily Planet, so I imagine you're from Metropolis. Maybe you don't get some of our local papers out there. However, I recommend you pick up a copy or two. I have nothing more to add." He nodded to the door that led downstairs. "And you're not supposed to be up here. I suggest you leave."

She didn't budge. "I've read the papers," she admitted. "That's the problem. You see, I came out here thinking that this story was going to be a waste of time. Vigilante crosses the line, kills some cops and the Gotham D.A. Pretty straightforward. Only, the more I looked into the story of this Batman character, the less the official story makes sense to me. According to the papers, you were the only witness to Dent's death. I figured, if I want the truth, I should come to you."

He frowned, the lines of his face deepening. Impatience and irritation were thick in his voice as he snapped, "As I said, I don't have anything to say." Wrapping one hand around her upper arm, he started to pull her forcibly towards the door. "Now, I suggest you leave before I have you arrested for trespassing."

It was a public building; Lois was reasonably certain he couldn't actually do that. Well, maybe he could, but he couldn't get it to stick. Okay, he was the Commissioner of Gotham, so perhaps he could even do that, but it was worth the risk, if it meant getting the real story. Lois yanked her arm out of his grasp. Acting as if he hadn't spoken, she strode back to the broken signal.

"Here's the thing. I've read everything I could find about the Batman. Every story that's been printed in the papers over the past year, since he first came to Gotham. You know what struck me? Until Dent's death, he was never accused of a single murder. Not one." She paused, letting this sink in, before she continued.

"You don't think that's a little interesting? You have this guy, this Batman, come into town. He takes down crime bosses and petty thieves, and he doesn't kill any of them. Nobody even ends up close to death. And these are some pretty bad guys, we're talking about here. Until the day he inexplicably kills some cops and the Gotham District Attorney. Then he goes back to his old m.o. Since Dent's death, at least a dozen criminals have been trussed up and left for the cops like gift-wrapped presents. Not one has been found dead, Commissioner Gordon. So I can't help but wonder; the Batman's a fugitive, wanted for several murders already. What would he have to lose with another murder or two? Can you explain that?"

Gordon pulled his gaze away from hers and started shuffling through the folder in his hands. "I don't need to, Ms. Lane. Can you?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah. Maybe the Batman didn't kill Harvey Dent or those cops."

He looked at her over the line of his glasses. "And why would I lie about what happened? Those were my men, in case you've forgotten. My officers! Dent was a good man. He had been a good friend. You think I would lie about how they died? Maybe the Batman just snapped. Have you considered that?"

Lois paused, considering the man in front of her. She caught his use of the past tense, but she didn't know what it meant. She did know that he truly cared about the murders for which Batman was accused; that much was obvious. So why would he lie? After a moment, she shrugged. "Of course I have. But it still doesn't make sense. He saved Dent's life at least twice, and all of a sudden, he snaps and kills him? Not to mention all those cops? Why? Why would he do that? And if he did snap, why hasn't he killed anyone since?"

Since Gordon didn't seem to have a ready answer, Lois continued, "You see, that's the thing I just can't quite figure out. The Joker put hits out on several prominent people in Gotham. You might remember that; it's how you became Commissioner. Almost all of them died, but not Dent. According to the reports, Batman saved everyone at the fundraiser, after the Joker showed up.

"Then, when the city was demanding that the Batman unmask to stop the Joker's string of killings, Dent stepped forward and proclaimed that he was the man behind the mask, that he liked to moonlight as Gotham's vigilante. Batman saved him, and if the newspapers were correct, it was quite the spectacle.

"So Batman puts his life on the line twice to save Harvey Dent, and then he turns around a short while later and kills him? How does that make sense?"

Deep frown lines bracketed Gordon's mouth. "Maybe Batman wasn't happy that Dent tried to steal his thunder. Maybe he didn't like the fact that the D.A. pretended to be him. The man dresses up like a bat. Who knows how his mind works? Any man who dresses up as a flying rodent and spends his evenings taking on Gotham's criminals can't be mentally stable. I know you're a reporter, but one day, I hope you can understand that just because you don't like the story doesn't mean it's not true."

"And I know you're a public figure, but just because a story is what the public wants to hear doesn't mean it is true," she shot back. Lois Lane and Commissioner James Gordon glared at each other in stony silence for a long moment, each taking the other's measure.

Finally, Gordon sighed and broke eye contact, his shoulders slumping under the weight of some internal burden. Lois frowned and stared out at the lights of the city. She wasn't going to get much out of him, that much was obvious. "All right," she conceded. "You win." And maybe Gordon was telling the truth. Maybe the Batman really had just snapped and killed those men. She honestly didn't know. She'd never met the vigilante – she'd only read about him in the newspapers and seen clips of him on television. And Gordon was right. Just because a story didn't fit together perfectly, just because it didn't make sense, just because it wasn't the story she wanted to believe, none of that meant the story necessarily had to be a lie.

"So how do I find him?" she asked. If she wanted the Batman's story, it looked like she'd have to go get it from him, but after over a week of contemplating the issue, she still didn't know how she could track him down. If she were in peril, he might show up to save her. Unfortunately, it hardly seemed like the best idea to throw herself off the nearest rooftop, in the vague hope that the Batman would swoop in and save the day. Sure, he'd taken down several criminals since making it to the top of Gotham's Most Wanted list. But it still seemed like it would be a poor choice for her to put her life on the line for the very thin chance a man in a bat suit would be there to save her.

"You don't find him," Gordon answered in a level tone, glancing towards the destroyed Bat Signal. "He finds you."

A soft exhalation of noise was sufficient to convey Lois's opinion on the inadequacy of that response. She was never very good with sitting back and waiting for something to happen. She'd always been more of a proactive kind of person.

Still, it seemed like she'd hit a brick wall with the commissioner. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Lois strode towards the door. She still couldn't shake the feeling that Gordon knew more than he was saying. After a few steps, she paused and turned towards him. In a soft voice, she said, "Hey, tell me something. From what I can gather, Batman's worked pretty closely with the GCPD over the last year." Actually, from what she could tell, he and Gordon had worked pretty closely together, in particular. It was part of what she found so difficult to understand. She continued, "Off the record, who really killed Harvey Dent?"

Gordon's head was bowed, and he wouldn't look her way. She hadn't really expected him to respond, but she was still disappointed that he didn't. Her mouth twisting, Lois sighed, turned, and walked away. Her hand was on the latch when she heard him reply, "We all did." She paused, considering his words, mouthing them silently as if she was testing the weight of them. They still made no sense to her, but she knew she wouldn't get any further explanation. So, without turning to look at the man behind her, she walked through the door and let it slam shut.

* * *

On the rooftop, James Gordon put aside the file he'd come up to read. There was no way he'd be able to concentrate on it now, regardless of the fact that there had been a series of burglaries in some of the city's more affluent neighborhoods lately. How the face of crime in Gotham had changed, since the Batman had first arrived on the scene.

A slight wind ruffled the papers poking out of the edges of the folder as Gordon (as he was called by everyone but his immediate family) gazed at the city skyline. He didn't hear so much as the soft scrape of a boot against the concrete, didn't feel the presence as it approached. In fact, familiarity and a good deal of practice were the only reasons he didn't jump in surprise when he heard the voice behind him.

"I didn't think you were going to use the signal anymore." The voice was deep, rough. A little unnerving, like the man who used it. Gordon was certain that was the point.

"I'm not," he said, turning to face the Batman. "There was a reporter up here, asking a lot of questions about you. She turned it on." Batman didn't reply, but, then again, the vigilante had always been a man of few words. Still, even for Gordon – who considered the Batman the closest thing to a friend two men in their particular circumstances could claim – Batman's silent stare was a little disquieting. "She's looking into Harvey's death."

"Many reporters in the city are," Batman pointed out.

"Yeah, but she doesn't believe the story." Gordon frowned. "And she's got a point. Maybe it's time we tell everyone the truth about what happened that night."

Batman turned, stepping further into the shadows in the process. The darkness fell around him like an old friend, and Gordon could no longer read his expression. Not that it was terribly easy to read Batman's expression in the best of lights. "It's not the right time," he said. "Gotham still needs to believe in Harvey Dent."

"Gotham needs to believe they have a hero watching out for them," Gordon retorted. "And they do. Maybe believing in a lie isn't what the city really needs right now."

"I'm not a hero."

The commissioner snorted. "You stand up against the criminals and thugs that would take over Gotham again if they could. In this city, you're the closest thing to a hero we've got." His companion didn't respond, so Gordon shrugged and dropped the subject. Maybe Batman was right and it wasn't the right time to reveal the truth, but that didn't make it easier on Gordon to perpetrate the lie.

"You know, you should watch out for that reporter," Gordon pointed out before the man in the shadows could pull another one of his disappearing tricks. He hadn't forgotten Ms. Lane's tenacity when she'd barraged him with her questions, and he suspected she wasn't a threat to be taken lightly.

"I can handle her."

"If you say so," Gordon murmured in non-committal agreement. When he turned to face Batman again, he wasn't surprised to see that the other man was already gone.


	2. Lois Lane, Detective

**A/N:** Here it is; the second chapter! For the record, all mis-spellings are entirely on purpose. The lovely Miss Lane isn't the best speller.

**Lois Lane, Detective**

Lois sighed as she stared up at the ceiling with a frown. There was a water stain right above the bed that was shaped just like a duck. Her frown deepened as she cocked her head a little to the left. Or a tank.

No, she liked the duck better. She shifted back to her original position. "So, who is the Batman?" she asked the water stain. It didn't seem to have an answer for her.

With a soft groan, she rolled over in bed, crushing several newspaper articles beneath her weight. There were still plenty more to peruse, so she grabbed one at random and stared at the grainy image: Batman on some sort of motorcycle, fleeing from what looked like an entire army of cops.

Resting her chin on her arm, she doodled flying bats in the margin of the list she'd been working on before a complete lack of inspiration struck.

_Batman – Secret Identity_

_Unmarried – too many late nights?_

_Loner – antisocial_

_Highly intelligent_

_Physically fit, regular exercise_

_Funding: Military? Private investor? Corporation – profit?_

_Self-employed – no set work schedual _

_Why a bat? Dracula fixation?_ She drew a series of vampire teeth after this. Some had blood dripping from the fangs.

_Possible Day Job:_

_ Race car driver / BMX biker_

_Trapese artist _

_ Magician – disappears and likes capes_

_ Cop / someone in law enforcement_

_ Lone Ranger / Zorro_

_ Rogue military experiment_

Okay, so her stream of consciousness list wasn't helping her all that much. The possibilities when it came to Batman's secret identity were nearly endless. Her list of possible alternative professions for the Batman – what she considered he might do as his "day job" was particularly useless. Still, after nibbling on the end of her pen for a moment, she added "_Ninja_" to the list. Surely there were people who worked as ninjas in this day and age, weren't there?

Another groan, this one much louder and filled with irritation, and she tore off her sheet of notes. Crumpling the paper into a ball, she tossed it in the general direction of the trashcan. When she heard the soft sound of it hitting the floor, she knew she'd missed, but she didn't much care. The place was a hellhole anyway; one more piece of trash lying around wouldn't do much damage.

She'd come to Gotham in search of a story on the D.A., as she'd told the police commissioner. She'd also come looking for a bit of a fresh start. She'd considered whether or not to get a place while she was in town, but she finally decided against it. It was unlikely she'd be around that long, and she didn't really need much. All she needed was a place to sleep.

The cheap hotel only a hair's breadth away from being located on what could be described as "the wrong side of the tracks" fit the bill. She grimaced and shifted again. At least, she supposed the piece of furniture she was currently lying on could be considered a bed, though she wasn't sure cement blocks wouldn't be more comfortable. Anyway, the place was dingy and a little depressing, but Lois didn't mind. It wasn't like she was looking for a home away from home, anyway. That would imply that Lois had a home to be away from, and that was something she'd never really had. It certainly wasn't something she'd found in Kansas, though for a time, she thought she had. But that train of thought was going to end up nowhere good, so she forced her attention back to the task at hand.

She picked up another article, but it wasn't any more helpful than the last. She frowned and looked at the picture of Batman's motorcycle again. It wasn't an ordinary bike, but it was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. It didn't look like a military vehicle – though of course it could be a top-secret project. Still, maybe it was the Woodward and Bernstein in her, but she felt like she could find the answers to Batman's secret identity if she just followed the money.

Of course, Woodward and Bernstein had actually had a trail to follow. The Batman had been pretty clever about covering his tracks, from what she could tell. His funding could literally come from anywhere, from the military to a corporation to a private party, for all she knew. Still, it helped narrow the pool of possible suspects down to only a few thousand – people who had money or people who could potentially have access to such resources.

It was something to keep in mind, should the opportunity ever arise to pursue that particular line of inquiry. It was a little too broad for the moment, so she pursed her lips and considered other avenues of investigation.

Commissioner Gordon had been her best lead, or at least she'd believed he would be, after reading everything she could find about the Batman. Her conversation had been maddeningly less than informative. What did that mean, they'd all killed Harvey Dent? They who? Was it a metaphor, as in the people of Gotham killed him by putting him up on a pedestal? Or was he referring to specific people?

Lois twirled her pen between her fingers and then started a fresh list, hoping this would be more productive than the last.

_"All of Us?"_ she wrote at the top of the blank sheet of paper. Then she stared at the blank lines, her brow creased in thought. Almost reluctantly, she put down the first name.

_Batman._ She still didn't think it made a lot of sense, but it would be irresponsible of her to completely discount the possibility, without any evidence outside of her gut to the contrary.

The next entry came much easier: _Commisioner James Gordon. _He had said "us," after all; not "them."

With a sigh, she scanned the articles spread around her. Who else might know how Dent had died? Who else might Gordon have been referring to, when he said they "all" had killed him? The Joker, of course, but that was a given. Perhaps some of the people he had been fighting to put behind bars, as well, but that list could be rather daunting. She doubted she'd get much information from them, anyway.

After a few more moments of thought, she added, _Mayor Garcia._ Since the murder, he had spoken out several times against the Batman, claiming Dent had been a friend. He had been a huge proponent of new anti-crime legislation, called "The Dent Act." Perhaps Lois was cynical, but she couldn't ignore the fact that, whether or not the Mayor had contributed to Dent's death in any way, he had at least profited politically from it. Since coming out against the Batman, his numbers had never been higher.

She tapped the paper a few more times and then added one final name: _Harvey Dent._ Yes, he had been the victim, but had he contributed to his own death in some way? Lois had seen photos of him, taken after his horrific accident. It didn't take a huge leap of faith to think that injuries of that nature might cause a man to become a little unstable. It was at least a possibility to consider.

Though she thought about the question for several more minutes, no other names came immediately to mind. So, other than the Joker (who she had tried to interview but had been informed was absolutely not allowed any visitors at the moment), the only name remaining on her current list of potential interviewees was the Mayor of Gotham.

Unfortunately, getting in to see the Mayor wasn't likely to be easy. She could attempt to set up an appointment through his office, but she'd likely only get the party line on the Batman if she did. If she wanted the truth – or at least an honest reaction to the question – she'd have to ambush him. Of course, ambushing any mayor was hardly an easy task, but in a city like Gotham, it would probably be next to impossible. She was going to have to be sneaky about her goal, if she wanted any chance to succeed.

Tossing the article in her hand aside, Lois grabbed that day's newspaper off the floor, where she'd thrown it earlier. It didn't contain any Bat-related stories, so she'd discounted it as being of any value. However, she thought she remembered seeing an article in the society section that might be helpful.

Flipping to the right page, she scanned it again. Ah, yes, the Metropolis Art Museum had a Van Gogh exhibit on loan, and a high society function had been organized to celebrate its opening. Mayor Garcia was scheduled to speak. Over dinner, dancing, and flowing champagne, Gotham's elite could schmooze and pat themselves on the backs for having brought culture to the masses. As it was to be a fundraiser for the museum, tickets to the gala (referred to as "invitations") were going at the relatively cheap price of $5,000 a plate, which was a good $4,432 more than Lois had in her bank account at the moment. It was a pretty good bet that her name wasn't at the top of the VIP list, either.

Still, if the Mayor was going to be there, it might be her best bet to catch him in an unguarded moment. Also, if she wanted to find out who was funding the Batman, going to a gathering of the richest and most powerful of Gotham's citizens wasn't a bad place to start. She had to get into that party. What she'd do once she got there about the latter question, if anything, was anyone's guess; she could hardly go up to total strangers and ask them if they secretly did some moonlighting in tight black leather and a mask. (Okay, she could, but it was more likely to give her a few scarring mental images than to lead to productive answers.)

Lois didn't let that stop her, however. She'd concentrate on pinning down the Mayor and figure out a game plan from there. One step at a time, and the first step would be to get into the party. Jumping off the bed, Lois grabbed her purse. As she stepped towards the door, her toe struck the side of the crumpled up list she'd tossed away earlier. It skittered under the bed, but Lois barely noticed and didn't even break stride as she headed for the door. If she was going to sneak her way in to a party held by the highest of Gotham's society, she'd have to look the part.


	3. Of All the Gin Joints in All the World

**A/N:** I clarified an earlier author's note about the timing, but since my last chapter had a couple of reviews that indicated there was some confusion, I'll clarify here, as well. This story takes place _in place of _the last of the Christopher Nolan movies. The timing is a little different, as this picks up a few months after the ending of "The Dark Knight" (not several years later). As far as Smallville's timeline, I've intentionally not been specific at this point, but it likely takes place post-Bride, picking up sometime after the Arc of Suck. Likely shortly after, though most of the events of season 8 (as regards Davis/Doomsday, Chloiac, etc.) will probably not have a huge role in this story. But it won't matter, because Smallville never thought it was important for Lois to ever know anything that was going on, anyway. If the timing becomes a critical factor at some point, I'll pinpoint it more closely at that time.

**Chapter 3**

**Of All the Gin Joints in All the World…**

Lois tried not to look nervous as she stared at the front doors leading into the museum. She'd never really formed a cohesive strategy for getting into the event, figuring instead that she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. Well, the bridge stretched out before her, metaphorically speaking, but she still had no idea how to get across.

Lacking any better options, she slipped casually into the line. Her first thought – that she could latch on to a group of attendees and sneak in with them – did not look like it was going to be successful. For one thing, there were very few large clusters of people approaching the doors all at once; people were moving ahead in groups of two or three, at most. For another thing, the men in tuxedos standing in the doorway seemed fairly conscientious about checking for everyone's "invitation." And Lois, needless to say, did not have an invitation to the party.

As she neared the doors, she made a big show out of rifling through her purse, as if looking for something. Of course, no heavy piece of cardstock spontaneously appeared in her clutch, but as she neared the front doors, she threw the doorman nearest her a sheepish smile.

"Oh, dear," she said in her most apologetic tone. "I just can't seem to find my invitation. I don't know where it could be." She shifted so that her body was blocking the entrance, in the hope that he would gesture her through, just to keep the line moving.

"I'm sorry," he said politely but with a distinct air of finality in his tone. "I can't let you in without one. Would your name be on the list?"

She watched as he reached for a clipboard, but try though she might, she couldn't shift into a position where she could read any of the names typed neatly on the sheet of paper it held. "Um, no," she said slowly. "I don't think so. I bought my spot at the last minute, you see."

He looked vaguely apologetic, but he shook his head and gestured for her to stand aside. "Well, like I said, I'm sorry, but we can't let anyone in without an invitation. It's a security issue."

Security issue, her ass. They just wanted to make sure everyone had forked over their money. She stalled for another moment, but at the gatekeeper's unwavering stare, she scooted aside just enough for people to start to pass. "I suppose my boyfriend could have thought to grab it," she offered desperately, scanning the crowd for any man who looked like he was unaccompanied. She had the vague and rather desperate hope that a date had cancelled at the last minute, and there was an extra ticket to be had, if she played her cards right.

Her heart leapt when she saw an octogenarian slowly make his way up to the doors, hobbling on a cane. Okay, so he looked old enough to be her grandfather, but she wasn't in a position to be picky. Besides, wasn't that the sort of thing money-grubbing socialites (like she was pretending to be) did, chasing after any man with money, no matter how old or infirm?

She was just about to step forward to embrace him as her thus-far "absentee" boyfriend, when a well-preserved blonde jogged to his side. They greeted each other with a familiar kiss, and then made her way up to the front doors together.

_Damn it,_ Lois cursed to herself. She might have just lost her chance.

In desperation, she turned her attention back to the guardian at the door. "Look, isn't there anything we can do? I really need to get in there. I do have an invitation, I swear, but I just can't find it." She let her eyes fill with tears – a technique that had sometimes come through for her in the past. Looking at the man in front of her like he could be her savior, she pressed, "My boyfriend will kill me if I don't make it to this thing, tonight! At the very least, he'll probably dump me for being so scatterbrained. Please, isn't there anything you can do?"

The intended victim of her charade didn't look entirely unsympathetic, but he clearly wasn't moved by her plea, as he stood his ground. "Look, I'm really sorry, but as I said, there's nothing I can do. Unless you want to buy another spot…?"

Letting out a soft sob as a last-ditch play for sympathy, she shook her head. Sadly, the only thing her Oscar-worthy performance got her was another apologetic look. It most assuredly did not grant her access to the inner sanctum.

_Damn, damn, damn,_ Lois mentally cursed again. What was she going to do? She'd seen the Mayor go into the building earlier, so she knew he'd already arrived. If she couldn't get in there tonight, she might never have as good of a chance to corner him again.

For a second, she considered caving and calling Ollie. She had no doubt that he would be more than happy to help her out. Their romantic relationship may have ended, but they still cared a great deal about each other, and she knew that there was very little he wouldn't do for her, just as there was very little she wouldn't do for him. But even as her fingers dipped inside her purse to grope around for her phone, she paused.

The truth was, as much as she missed Ollie – his laughter, his friendship, and the shoulder to cry on – she was loath to call him for help. When she'd left Kansas, it was in pain. She'd been wounded, having put herself out there only to have everything she thought she knew ripped out from under her. Once again, it had been made clear to her that who she was simply wasn't "good enough." More than anything else, she was angry at herself, for the fact that this assessment had hurt.

She'd left Kansas to get a scoop on a story, but she'd also left it to get some perspective. When she returned – _if _she returned – she wanted it to be with the peace of mind that would only come when she put her past and her foolish mistakes (as well as near-misses) behind her. She was Lois Lane, for crying out loud! She'd be damned if she resigned herself to being anyone's backup plan, some lousy second choice.

She could hardly turn a new page when she kept flipping back to an old chapter, whenever she was in trouble. Ollie knew where she was; when she first suggested getting out of Smallville and away from everything that had happened there, he had offered to take her to Star City with him. She'd kissed his cheek and gently refused, appreciating his offer, which was generous and certainly made with the best of intentions. However, she knew deep down that she wouldn't find what she was looking for in Star City. She made sure to drop him a line every so often, to let him know she was okay. She didn't want him to worry, and she certainly didn't want him to think he had to swoop into town in his green leather-clad alter ego to save her from the clutches of the Batman.

If she called Ollie now, she knew he'd help her. Heck, he'd probably jump on his plane and fly out to join her. It was a tempting thought, since she remembered how much fun the two of them had together. He could certainly make the fundraiser a little less stuffy and a more enjoyable experience overall. But still…tempting as it was, she wasn't ready to call in the troops yet.

It was silly, perhaps, but she was determined to do this without any help from the friends she had left behind in Smallville and in Metropolis. If she succeeded, maybe she'd once again be the woman she used to be, instead of the idiot who had actually thought…

Lois pulled her hand out of her purse with a firm shake of her head. No, she wasn't going to call Ollie or anyone else, at least not for help. Not until she had to, and she was nowhere near the point of needing to call in reinforcements. After all, it was just a stupid fundraiser. If Lois couldn't connive her way in, she didn't deserve to wear a press pass.

She was just about to walk away from the doors to regroup and come up with another strategy when, like a mirage rising out of the desert, a man walked up behind her, headed towards the door. A quick glance around confirmed that he was unaccompanied. Acting on impulse, Lois ran forward, intercepting him.

"Darling!" she cried, throwing her arms around him and pressing a kiss against his cheek. A few camera flashes went off from the street, but Lois barely noticed. She noticed very little, in fact, beyond the fact that this man could prove to be her savior. Pulling away, she raised her voice as she said, "Don't be mad, but I seem to have misplaced my invitation. The doorman refuses to let me in without one. I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she pleaded with him. "I don't suppose you have one on you? Another invitation, I mean?"

Lois rested her palms on the stranger's chest and stared pleadingly into his eyes, hoping he would help her out – or, at the very least, that he wouldn't give her away. If he rebuffed her now, it would be likely to arouse the suspicions of the doormen, and they would catch on to her ploy. If they decided to keep a close eye on her, to keep her from trying to sneak in again, it would make her job that much harder.

As she gazed into the stranger's chocolate brown eyes, she realized two things: first, he looked intensely confused by her actions. Well, she supposed she couldn't blame him. She had just thrown herself at him, pretending to be her date when he'd never laid eyes on her before. Second, he was absolutely heart-stoppingly gorgeous. She was glad she'd put her plan into action before she'd had a chance to think about what she was about to do. If she'd registered his features before she'd started to speak, she probably would have started to babble incoherently as her brain disconnected from her basic motor functions.

_Well, hello, handsome_, her mental voice crooned in self-satisfaction as she resisted the urge to give his entire body a quick once-over. Dear god, could the rest of him live up to his face? She couldn't resist the urge to dig her fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his shirt, to feel the muscles hidden beneath. Even that little bit of exploration, brief though it was, revealed enough to have her almost have to catch her breath.

_Wait,_ her mental voice pointed out. _If he's that good looking, I don't care that he's here alone. I hate to tell you this, honey, but there's no way this guy is single._

Her stomach plummeted in disappointment and she almost cursed aloud at the thought, but Lois firmly reminded herself that it didn't matter. He could be an alien from another planet, so long as he helped her out now. He looked about to speak, so she pleaded with him in soft desperation one more time. "Please? I'll give you a fifty to help me snag an invitation in to this thing."

There was a short burst of startled laughter, then confusion melted into a smile so charming, it actually did cause her to catch her breath. Bowing his head, he brushed his lips against her cheek. "A fifty? How could I resist?" he murmured into her ear, his breath against her cheek. Then he pulled away and said loud enough for everyone around them to hear, "Sorry to keep you waiting. You look stunning tonight. I think you get more beautiful every time I see you. In fact, you look so lovely in that dress, it reminds me of the night we met. For a moment, it almost felt like the first time I'd ever laid eyes on you." He slung his arm around her waist, pulling her gently against his side. Lois reminded herself that it would be rude to jab him in the ribs with her elbow, even if he was teasing her. At the very least, she should wait until he'd gotten her past the metaphorical Cerberus, guardian at the gates.

The stranger dropped his arm when they reached the doors, smiling at the man tasked with checking for invitations. "Good evening. I should be on the list. The lady is with me."

"Yes, sir. Of course." The response was respectful and no move was made to stop either Lois or her so-called "savior" as they passed.

Lois was a little disgruntled – and a little wary – that the situation had been so effortlessly resolved. She shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, but it really shouldn't have been that easy. "So, why didn't you have to pay for a plate at this esteemed party?" she probed. "I thought that guy would demand the fillings from my teeth, if that would get enough to cover the cost of admission."

He chuckled. "I'm good friends with the man who helped fund the event," he admitted. He sounded amused, but when Lois shot him a quick look, she couldn't read anything from his expression.

"Still, not that I don't appreciate it, but I'm a little surprised you agreed to help me out," she admitted as her companion escorted her into the main room of the museum, where couples mingled in the center of a room lined with dining tables. A full-blown orchestra was set up in one of the alcoves, and soft music drifted over the crowd. "After all, for all you know, I have nefarious motives. I could have smuggled a weapon in with me."

Lois could swear she felt the weight of his gaze as it swept down her body, taking in her figure-hugging black gown. "In that dress? Where would you put it?" He let out a soft grunt when she gave into temptation and elbowed him in the ribs for his comment.

Her gaze scanned the party, and she straightened when she caught sight of the Mayor across the room. Time to get to work. "Well, anyway, I appreciate your help. I won't take up any more of your time. I just –" Her excuses cut off when he grabbed her hand, giving it a soft tug until she turned to face him.

"I know you offered me a fifty, but I'd much rather have a dance," he explained, throwing her another heart-stopping smile. Honestly, there should be a law against that kind of weaponized sex appeal.

He gave her hand a slight tug, causing her to stumble forward a step, but she still resisted. With a small toss of her head, she offered him a shaky smile. He exerted a soft pressure against her hand, pulling her against him. When her palms landed against his chest, she sucked in a deep breath. "Thanks for the offer," she said, her voice a little shaky. "But I think it's best if we keep ours a strictly business relationship."

She tried to step out of his arms, but he kept his hands at the small of her back, trapping her in place. Okay, if she was brutally honest with herself, she had to concede that she could probably pull away if she wanted to. But the fact that she was reluctant to do so wasn't something she wasn't to admit to herself; she'd much prefer to blame him. "I thought you promised me a fifty to get you into the party," he said, his lips curved into a slight smile. "Surely a dance is a reasonable substitute."

Lois chuckled softly, forcing herself to pull out of his arms. She really had to corner the Mayor before it was too late and he somehow got away. "I offered you a fifty to get me an invitation," she corrected him. "And, technically, you didn't hold up your end of the bargain. All things considered, I think we're even."

He wasn't willing to let it go. "With or without an invitation, I got you into the party. I think that's worth a dance at least," he pointed out.

With a smirk, she retorted, "I think you put too high a value on your assistance," she teased.

"Ouch," he said, putting his hand against his chest as he feigned a grimace of pain. "Okay, if you don't want to dance, then how about dinner, instead?

God, he was attractive. It was almost unnatural. Lois wasn't the type to underestimate her charms; she knew she could turn heads when she wanted to. But she was beginning to think that the man in front of her was inhumanely attractive, like he had been bathed in a pool filled with pixie dust and unicorn tears when he was a baby. Magic was the only possible explanation.

Tamping down on her physical reaction to him, Lois laughed. "Oh, but what we've had has been so magical, why risk ruining it? After all, we'll always have the front steps of the museum." She didn't know what prompted her to make the allusion to the classic movie, but she decided to run with it.

"So if we ever cross paths again, I can have dinner and a dance with you then?" he asked.

She considered his suggestion and then gave him a quick nod. He didn't know her name, had no way of tracking her down. "Why not?"

"Well, in that case…here's looking at you, kid," he drawled in what was probably the worst impersonation of Humphrey Bogart ever attempted. Lois laughed and then, with a cheeky grin, she turned on her heel and darted through the crowd, the sound of his chuckle fading behind her.

It took several minutes for Lois to work her way through the crowd, heading towards the area of the room where she'd last seen Mayor Garcia. She started to panic when she didn't see him at first, but she finally caught sight of him. Casually scooting into the crowd around him, she laughed at the end of a joke she hadn't heard and waited for an opening.

"He tackled me like I'd insulted his sister! It's the last time I play football with the SWAT team!" Mayor Garcia finished another anecdote to the sound of forced laughter.

It wasn't much of an opening, but it was the best she was likely to get. "Mayor Garcia, may I ask you a question?" she cooed, scooting forward to break free of the pack.. He turned towards her with a friendly smile. "I'm looking into Hervey Dent's murder, and I wondered if you could give me a quote. Who really killed him and those cops?"

Mayor Garcia's eyes went cold and his smile fell. Although she read surprise in his expression, she saw no shame or any sign of subterfuge. Merely anger. "I'm sorry, Miss…?

"Blaine," she supplied, deciding to use an alias on the spot, her earlier references to Casablanca providing inspiration. She didn't want to burn a bridge, in case she had to try to get an appointment with his office in the future.

"Miss Blaine, I've given all the interviews I intend to give on this subject. The Batman killed Harvey Dent, and he will be held accountable for his crimes."

Although he seemed to be sincere about his belief that the Batman was to blame, Lois had to be sure. "You don't think it's all a little too convenient? It doesn't exactly make sense, does it?"

Lines deepened in his face as his lips tightened. "I don't think it's _convenient_ at all. A lot of good men died that day, not just Harvey Dent. Dent was a good man, a hero for Gotham. He stood up against the criminals that would tear down this city, and the Batman killed him for it. As long as I am in office, I will fight to make sure the Batman is brought to justice, as he so richly deserves. How is that for a quote?"

"But you don't think –" Lois began.

He cut her off. "You're a reporter, right? So what are you even doing in here, anyway? Do you have an invitation, because I was under the impression reporters didn't make that much money."

She paused, wondering if she should reveal her savior. Instead, she faked a smile. "I snuck in," she bragged, which wasn't entirely a lie. Of course, she knew this would get her escorted out of the building, but she'd accomplished what she meant to do here, anyway.

He didn't let her down. "I thought so." Looking over her shoulder, he nodded to members of his security. "Would you escort her out, please?" He glowered as he chided her. "This is neither the time nor the place for this conversation. You should have some respect. We're here to raise money for the museum, not to try to further sensationalize a good man's death. If you have any more questions for me, Miss Blaine, I suggest you request an appointment with my office." His tone made it clear that pigs would fly before he granted such a request.

Lois didn't wait for the security guards to grab her by the arm. "I can show myself out, actually. But thanks for the quote, Mister Mayor." She resisted the urge to scan the crowd to look for her savior's face as she left the building. Instead, she focused on her interview. It hadn't been terribly productive, other than to lead her to believe that Mayor Garcia actually bought into the party line. His anger at "Batman's crimes" seemed genuine. Either he was a really good actor – possible, as he was a politician – or he genuinely believed the official story.

She stood on the sidewalk outside of the building and considered what to do next. She seemed to have hit a brick wall in her investigation. The only way she could move forward, as far as she could tell, would be to find a way to interview Batman himself. But first, she had to find him.

Just when she was trying to decide what to do, several police cars sped by, their lights on and sirens wailing. She stared after them for a moment and then ran to her car, hopping behind the wheel. Whatever was going on, she wanted to be a part of it. And, with any luck, Batman would soon follow.


	4. Immovable Object Meets Unstoppable Force

**Chapter 4**

**Immovable Object Meets Unstoppable Force**

Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane stood on the outskirts of Gotham City. Given the reputation and criminal histories of its inhabitants, the area around the large, gothic structure was usually quiet. It received few visitors, and it was rare for anyone who didn't work within the asylum to so much as approach the heavy iron gates surrounding the property. Even children, who could be prone to the occasional reckless dare or test of bravado, steered clear of the place.

It was anything but quiet tonight. Lois followed the cop cars at a discreet distance until they reached the curved driveway leading to the asylum's main gate. Pulling off the side of the road some distance from the commotion, she jumped out and stared at the commotion, as more cop cars, fire trucks, and several ambulances raced up the street.

She stayed back as she assessed the scene. Smoke billowed up from the west wing of the building. Sirens blared; spotlights scanned the area. She saw a number of cops either clustered together in small groups to discuss the situation or spread out across the grounds. She couldn't count the number of officers on the scene, but if the bobbing flashlights on the grounds were any indication, there were more than two dozen.

It didn't take a woman with Lois's journalistic instincts to conclude that there had been an escape of at least one – and likely more, given the pandemonium – of the asylum's inhabitants. She grimaced at the realization that she didn't have a spare set of clothes in her car. It seemed she would have to do this investigation in a cocktail dress.

Well, she'd done investigations in worse, she supposed. She'd learned long ago that innovation and the ability to adapt to difficult situations were key ingredients to good investigative reporting. Of course, before she could begin her investigation, she had to get the low down on the situation. It seemed unlikely the cops would be forthcoming, and she didn't want to alert them to her presence and risk them blocking her investigation entirely.

Lois rocked her weight from one foot to the other as she surveyed the scene. Inspiration struck when she saw a cluster of ambulances parked just outside the gates. EMS workers wove between the trucks, tending to various relatively minor wounds. Trying her best to stick to the shadows (although the lights of the numerous emergency vehicles made it difficult if not impossible to do so), she approached cautiously.

On the back of one ambulance, Lois watched as a couple of EMS workers tended to one of Arkham's employees. The patient was hunched over, breathing into an oxygen mask as the emergency medical specialists were tending to some minor cuts and burns. On the floor of the ambulance, a little off to the side of the workers, lay a white lab coat. The man receiving treatment was apparently one of the asylum's doctors.

The white coat would at least help her blend in a little, even though the dress underneath it was a little hard to conceal. Still, she wasn't likely to have a better opportunity. Striding confidently forward, Lois skirted the side of the ambulance and picked up the white coat. Then, without missing a step, she slipped it on while she walked away. Years of undercover stints had taught her that one could get away with almost any outlandish activity, so long as one pretended they were authorized to do it. It was amazing how much a simple air of confidence caused people to not even question what one was doing.

Nobody called after her, so Lois walked calmly through the main gate, reasonably confident she was in the clear. As she walked forward, she heard a familiar voice and turned to see Commissioner Gordon standing a few yards away, calling out instructions to his various officers. She bowed her head to keep her features from view as she casually changed direction, to move a little further away from his circle of light.

She heard some voices off to her right and turned to see a group of nurses standing in a little huddle. One had her head bowed and was crying. Lois could hear the soft sound of their voices but she couldn't make out the words. Curious, she edged a little closer in order to eavesdrop.

"She'll be okay, Meg," an older woman said to the sobbing woman. "They'll find her. I'm sure it'll be alright."

The crying nurse shook her head emphatically and moaned piteously a couple of times, but she didn't respond. The cluster of nurses exchanged miserable looks, but they didn't speak again. Lois didn't want to call attention to herself, given that she was sneaking on to the grounds and didn't want to be found out. However, patience had never been one of her virtues, so she couldn't just stand back in silence and hope they said something useful.

She took a few quick shallow breaths, to try to make herself sound excited and short of breath, and then stumbled forward into the light. "Oh, my gosh, this is insane!" she exclaimed, though she tried to keep her voice low so that she didn't accidentally draw the attention of the officers on the scene – particularly Gordon. "Does anyone have a cigarette?"

The nurses had turned towards her with expressions of confusion and surprise, but her question cut off the first volley of questions. One of the nurses pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket, and Lois busied herself lighting the cigarette. She didn't actually smoke anymore – she'd quit a few years before – but the action gave the nurses a few moments to adjust to her presence and let their guards down a little.

"Anyway, I can't believe all this; can you?" Lois asked, gesturing with the hand holding the cigarette. "What happened? Does anyone know?"

"There was a breakout," one of the younger nurses said, as if that hadn't been readily evident by the general commotion. "I'm sorry; who are you again?"

Lois smiled and bowed her head, pretending to watch the ash she flicked off the end of her cigarette. Instead, she was really taking a moment to read the name badge of her jacket, which was upside down from her point of view. "Oh, I'm Dr., uh, Liu," she said breezily. "I just started; this is only my second week. You can call me Megan. I really hate the last name. Ex-husband, you know?" She shared a smile of female commiseration with her companions.

She saw one of the nurses stare at her dress underneath the lab coat, and so she gave a wry smile. "I was on a date when I got the call that something had happened, so I rush right over here, of course! The date wasn't going very well anyway. So, what happened? Nobody will tell me anything!"

Her companions seemed to accept her explanation, and her efforts to create a sense of bonding and closeness had apparently had some measure of success, as the group shifted closer. "Nobody really knows," one of the older nurses said. "I was working when I heard the explosion at the end of the cell block. It looked like an entire wall had come down."

Another woman looked around, as if checking for eavesdroppers, and then inched forward. Lowering her voice conspiratorially, she said, "They're saying it was the Joker, that someone broke him out."

"Not just him!" another interjected. She looked like the youngest in the group. "I heard that the Joker took a bunch of the other maximum security prisoners with him!"

"We don't know that," an elderly nurse snapped.

"We know he took a hostage." The comment was soft, barely above a whisper, and Lois looked at the nurse who had been crying before. Her cheeks were still wet, and she looked a little shell-shocked. But the tears had stopped, at least for the moment. Noticing Lois's attention, the nurse spoke up, "Harleen. He took Harleen with him. She-she was working the ward tonight, but nobody's been able to find her. Not since…not since the explosion."

All of the nurses looked away uncomfortably, unable to meet Lois's eyes. Nobody pointed out the obvious – that if the Joker had taken Harleen with him, it was unlikely she'd be found alive.

Lois pressed forward and patted the distraught woman on the shoulder. Then, figuring she'd gotten all the information from them that she could, she murmured an excuse about wanting to check on something and she edged away. As she left the group, they closed ranks and huddled closer together, looking morose as they each privately contemplated their co-worker's fate.

Nearby, she heard the Commissioner's voice rise above the background noises. "Doesn't anyone have the roll call? You! Get me the names of the missing maximum security prisoners. I want a report on the Joker, Scarecrow, Freeze…all of them. I want any officer not currently searching the grounds inside that building right now, and then we're going to load everyone on a bus and get the prisoners locked down. I want a full report in five minutes, or it'll be your badge. You got that?"

Lois frowned. Well, she didn't have a fleet of cops at her command, so if she wanted similar answers – and she did – she was going to have to get them for herself. She scooted a little further away from the cops as she considered her next move.

Obviously, the only logical thing to do would be to try to get into Arkham Asylum itself. Granted, it wasn't the safest thing to do. It wasn't even likely to be the sanest. But if she wanted to know what had happened, she was going to need to get inside.

Well, if she was going to be reckless enough to try to sneak into an asylum for the criminally insane, then she should probably at least make sure she could make a quick escape, if need be. Lois slipped off her high heels and left them by the gate. She really hoped she'd be able to pick them up later. They were some of her favorites.

The white lab coat, while it had provided good cover thus far, would only stand out against the dark landscape. Lois pulled it off and tossed it aside, trying to keep it hidden in the shadows. Then she ducked low and darted forward, heading towards the building. She had to bob and weave across the lawn, to steer clear of the police flashlights.

When she finally got to the building, she stayed close to the wall and slipped around the corner, heading towards the still-smoking wing. There was less security than she'd expected, though she supposed she shouldn't be surprised. The police were expecting prisoners to try to break out; they weren't expecting someone like her to try to sneak in.

It took a little bit of time, but Lois waited in the shadows and watched until there was a break in the police patrol outside the destroyed wall. Then she slipped inside, pausing just long enough to note that it appeared the wall had been destroyed in an explosion. The rubble was sprayed outward, scattering across the lawn. Lois wasn't an expert, but she'd seen enough explosions in her day to recognize that it appeared that this one had originated from the inside of the building. Then, before she could be caught, she raced down the empty hallway to the door at the end. As she ran, she noticed that every cell she passed was empty.

Actually, the building was entirely too empty, overall. Lois had expected a good deal more difficulty in getting around, but the halls were surprisingly quiet. She came across an empty nurse's station and paused. She didn't want to get caught, but she couldn't quell her curiosity.

The security door leading into the nurse's station was ajar; clearly, the station had been abandoned in a hurry. With one quick look over her shoulder, Lois scooted through the open door and scanned the small area. She found a clipboard with a list of inmates, and she grinned in victory. Pulling off the papers, she quickly folded them and stuck them inside her bra. Then she turned to the filing cabinet and started pulling open drawers.

Inside, she found files for each of the prisoners, containing records of their medical treatments, psychological examinations, and other pertinent information. Lois wished she had enough time to read through all of them, but she knew her luck couldn't hold out so long. So, allowing herself only a small grunt of regret, she rifled through the folders until she found a file labeled simply "Joker" – they still hadn't been able to uncover his real name. With a smile of triumph, she flipped it open and scanned its contents.

After a moment, she saw something strange and pulled a couple of other folders out of the drawer. She flipped them open and then compared records. No, there was something definitely strange about the Joker's file. In particular, his psychological records were downright wacky.

Now, Lois had no doubt – from the news reports she'd read and seen – that the Joker was a certifiable nutjob. As the General would say, he was a few crackers short of a box. A few tacos short of a combination platter. A few soldiers short of a platoon. In other words, crazier than a box full of hair.

Still, he'd had a staggering number of appointments with Dr. Harleen Quinzel over the past several months. At least one a day, sometimes even more. As she scanned the records, she saw that the visits had grown more frequent over the past month. Was it possible that Dr. Quinzel had been a co-conspirator, and not a hostage after all? Could she have helped the Joker break out?

Frowning in thought, Lois ripped all the pages out of the file and replaced the empty folder in order to hide the theft. She then started to close the drawer and paused. There was so much information right in front of her, so many answers to questions she didn't even know yet. She knew she couldn't take everything with her – and she certainly couldn't stick around and read all the files right then and there – but it seemed such a shame to just walk away. She might never have an opportunity like this again.

So, biting her lower lip indecisively, Lois pulled a few more folders out of the drawer, choosing names that were familiar to her from news reports she'd studied in her investigation on the Batman. She consoled herself with the thought that she was just furthering her investigation on Batman through her actions. After all, it seemed logical that the best way to study the vigilante was to study his greatest foes. Okay, it seemed like an excuse to tell herself that, but it still sounded like a reasonable argument.

She ripped out the pages and folded them up. They wouldn't all fit into her bra, so she shoved them in the bodice of her dress, instead. The ruined the line of her gown, but she didn't care. Then, with a grimace of regret at the information she was leaving behind, she closed the file drawer and walked out of the nurse's station. Now she wanted to investigate the rest of the asylum.

As she moved further into the heart of Arkham, she heard the loud rumble of hundreds of voices, and she followed the sound. She finally came across the cafeteria, and it was filled with inmates. The guards and some outside police officers were working together to try to keep the prisoners under control. Things were rapidly heading for a full-fledged riot; they'd be lucky to calm things down before they got to that point.

Lois inched forward, trying to see through the doorway to get a better look at what was going on inside the room. She tried to keep an eye out for some of the faces she'd seen in the clippings about the Batman she'd studied for over a week, but there was too much going on inside the room. In the pandemonium, she wasn't able to really catch a good look at any face in particular.

Even as she watched, she saw a group of about six inmates overpower the guards trying to corral them and make a break for the door. The door right in front of her.

Lois sucked in a sharp breath and scrambled backwards. Her co-workers accused her in the past of not having a sense of self-preservation. Her dad chided her for failing to even once look before she leaped. Her sister accused her of having a death wish. In reality, none of those accusations were true. Lois had a healthy respect for the value of her own life. She never meant to put her life on the line, certainly not as often as she did. It was just all too easy for her to put other things – her natural curiosity, her desire for a good story – before thoughts of her own personal safety.

The moment she saw the prisoners make a break for the door, the tiny voice of her self-preservation belatedly but finally decided to speak up. Fear twisted her stomach when she realized she was about to face off against several of the city's worst criminal offenders. She was unarmed. Hell, she was unshod. While she was confident in her abilities to take on one or two psychotic criminals, even she didn't think she could take on a whole group of them at a time. And once the rest of the inmates in the cafeteria realized there was a breach in the guards' defenses, she had no doubt she'd have more than one or two on her hands.

Spinning on her heel, Lois took off like a shot down the corridor leading to the ruined wall. She didn't move fast enough; behind her, she heard a man's voice call out in surprise and the smack of several pairs of feet landing hard against the concrete floor, following her.

"Shit shit shit shit shit!" Lois moaned to herself as she ran. Her gown was certainly not helping her run. Her bare feet weren't any more helpful. God, what she wouldn't give for a pair of pants and some Nike trainers, right about now.

Her feet slipped against the smooth concrete, and only a last-minute save kept her from tumbling to the ground. The sound of pounding feet grew closer, and she knew she wasn't going to get away.

If she wasn't going to be able to escape them, she'd be damned if she was taken down like a fleeing animal. Sliding to a halt, Lois pivoted on her ball of her foot and spun around. Bracing her weight evenly, she pulled the bottom of her dress up over her knees and prepared for a fight.

The inmates were on her entirely too fast, well before she was ready for the onslaught. The first was greeted with a fist to the left cheek, followed by a quick kick to the inside of the knee. She introduced herself to the second via an elbow to the throat before spinning to deliver a kick to another inmate's stomach.

Just as her foot landed, she felt a hand grab tight to the back of her head, clenching a fistful of her hair. He shoved her forward hard, slamming her head into the wall.

Red sparks flared behind her eyelids, but she struggled to clear her thoughts. She couldn't afford to lose it right now. Gritting her teeth, she thrust her elbow backwards, trying to make contact with her attacker's solar plexus. "Let me g-oh?"

The pressure on the back of her head eased unexpectedly, her elbow connected with only air, throwing her off balance so that she stumbled a few feet. She turned, lifting her fists to prepare to strike. As it turned out, it was unnecessary. When she turned, she beheld the most incredible thing she had ever seen.

Batman.

Of course, she'd seen the pictures of him. She'd even seen the video footage of him on the news. It wasn't like she could profess to be entirely surprised by the sight before her eyes.

He was a man. In a bat suit. And he was the best fighter she'd ever seen. Since she had been raised on Army bases all over the world, that was saying something. He was moving too fast for her to see his face, but he moved like poetry in motion. Of course, not everyone would have that opinion. There was something about a man who could utilize various martial arts to take down psychotic criminals, however, that just caused her heart to race and her pulse to quicken. It was, in a word, in-freaking-credible.

It was also distracting, and Lois couldn't afford to be distracted. The Batman was taking on four attackers at once, but there had been more than four inmates on her tail. She had to stop them before they escaped through the destroyed wall and got away. One of the unoccupied inmates came around the side to attack, and Lois ducked low, charging forward into his chest. Her action took him by surprise, and he staggered backwards. Then he bent and wrapped his arms around her waist, yanking hard.

The next several eons (at least it seemed like several eons) passed in a blur as Lois tried to fight off one person after another after another. God, this was worse than one of those stupid video games she'd always played as a child, in which an endless series of attackers marched across the screen, determined to annihilate her little pixilated hero.

Finally, just when she was so exhausted she thought she might drop, Lois lifted the hem of her dress to mid-thigh and spun around one last time, to kick yet another would-be-escapee in the ribs. Instead, leather-wrapped hands wrapped around her ankle before she could make contact.

The abrupt halt to her rotated motion threw off her weight distribution, and Lois's free foot slipped against the concrete floor. Batman released her foot and tried to reach for her, but it was too late. She went down hard, her hip slamming against the floor with enough force to jar her teeth. "Ow!" she cried, staring accusingly at the leather-clad erstwhile hero in front of her.

"I'm sorry," he said, and the graveled tone of his voice caused a shiver to shoot down her spine. "How's your head?" He reached for her hand to help her up, and as Lois got to her feet, she used the momentum to stumble forward, landing against him.

Her fingers didn't rest against pliable skin. The fabric under the bat insignia was hard. An armored breastplate. "Not bad," she murmured in acknowledgement of his top-notch defensive gear, not even registering his question about her headl. She stared into his eyes, but she couldn't read anything in his expression. Of course, she didn't have a lot to go off of – just his eyes and the hard line of his chin.

"So…um…you're real. I kinda didn't expect that," she commented, then winced inwardly at how inane she sounded. Of course he was real. She'd seen pictures of him. Video. She'd been investigating him, for crying out loud. But there was a difference between accepting the Batman as a concept or an idea and staring directly at a man wearing a bat suit and a glower. "I mean…um…of course you are." Her mouth seriously needed to stop moving, because this situation was only getting more nightmarish with each word. _Shut up, Lois. Just shut up._ But, of course, she didn't. "I mean…you really do dress like a bat. It's just…did you know that your photos really don't do your costume justice?" She groaned. "I should shut up now."

"You shouldn't be here," he rasped, completely ignoring the vacation her brain had just taken from her mouth. "It isn't safe."

She offered him a shaky smile. "Yeah, well…I never did learn to look both ways before crossing the street."

The loud clamor of voices coming from two directions interrupted her not-so-suave attempt at conversation. More inmates were trying to make a break for the exit, but the officers inside had apparently called for reinforcements, as some were on their way.

"Put your arms around my neck," Batman directed her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Okay, no offense, but we just met and pretty much everyone I've spoken to about you has assured me that you're a bad guy. So pardon me if I'm not eager to put my arms ar-woah! Watch it, Mister!"

The Batman had decided to ignore her protests and had wrapped an arm around her waist. She was so distracted by the way he yanked her hard against his chest that she didn't see what his other hand was doing. Before she knew it, she was lifted off her feet, shooting straight up into the sky.

When they finally stopped, Lois was perched beside Batman on a steel girder. She desperately wanted to gasp, maybe even let out a tiny squeak of fear, but she'd embarrassed herself enough already. So, instead, she gritted her teeth and tried to project a nonchalant air, as if she perched on narrow metal beams a mile or so off the ground on a regular basis. (Okay, maybe it wasn't really a mile, but try telling that to her stomach.)

"Don't look down, Lois, and whatever you do, don't die," she whispered to herself, keeping her voice low so the Batman wouldn't hear. For a moment, she was afraid that he had overheard, as the corners of his mouth lifted in a smile. At least, she thought it was a smile. Since she could only see his profile, and most of that was covered in a mask. It was either a smile or indigestion. She hoped it was indigestion.

"We have to leave," the Batman murmured in that husky rasp of his. Lois couldn't decide if it was sexy, or if she wanted to slip him a Ricola. He turned to her. "Do you want to put your arms around my neck, now, or do you think you can get down on your own?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. Normally, if she weren't perched so high off the ground, she'd give him some flack for his attempt at a sense of humor. However, she was smart enough to realize that it would be a bad idea to alienate him right now. She really, really couldn't even begin to say how much she didn't want him to leave her where she was. As she looked down towards the ground – which was entirely too far away – she saw a group of cops rush forward to fight back the flood of inmates that were trying to escape.

"All right," she finally agreed begrudgingly. "Just…watch the hands, okay?"

He didn't respond. Somehow, she wasn't surprised. He seemed to be a man of few words. So, rolling her eyes, she scooted a little closer and gingerly wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You're going to have to hold on tighter than that," he murmured in her ear.

She frowned. "Easy for you to say," she murmured back. "If I do this, you'll totally owe me an interview."

He held still while she gingerly tightened her hold around his neck. Then he wrapped his arm around her back. "For saving your life?" he asked.

"For asking me to trust you. You are an accused killer, after all," she pointed out.

He shook his head. "I don't do interviews. Now don't scream."

She snorted. "Clearly, you don't know me very well. I'm not so easily sca-eee-red?" She choked out the word around something a little too close to a squeak of terror for her peace of mind, when Batman launched the two of them off the steel beam and glided through the air. At least she was comforted with the thought that it had _not_ been a scream. It hadn't even been a shriek. A squeak was a totally respectable response – and perfectly understandable, under the circumstances.

Catching her breath to avoid making any more potentially embarrassing sounds, Lois tucked her face against Batman's shoulder. She wasn't scared or anything, she told herself. She was just being careful not to throw off Batman's center of gravity, so that she didn't cause the two of them to tumble out of the air.

They glided from one beam to another, and then Batman swooped down to the ground in front of the demolished wall. He pushed her forward, forcing her to run, and though Lois heard shouts behind her, she didn't stop to look. Cops? Inmates? Whoever they were, she wasn't going to let them distract her. She'd finally met the Batman face to face – or face to cowl. It was her chance to get the story of a lifetime. She wasn't going to let it pass her by now.

Even as they raced forward, though, Lois knew there was no way they'd be able to get away. There were too many cops around, and Batman was wanted by pretty much ever police officer in the city. They were going to be caught before they even hit the front gate, and while she was sure Batman would get the brunt of it, she was pretty sure sneaking into a prison breakout had to be in violation of a law or two.

When they jumped over the wreckage, Lois saw several police officers turn to stare at Batman with wide eyes. One shouted, and they rushed forward. Lois charged forward, ready to fight her way free, if need be, but Batman grabbed her arm and yanked hard, pulling her to the side. Instead of rushing towards the gate, he headed to the right, running around the side of the building.

This time, he didn't even warn her. Batman wrapped his arm around her waist, and her arms went instinctually around his neck as she waited for the weightless sensation she knew was coming. He lifted his hand, and Lois noticed a dull glint of some kind of metal between his fingers, she heard a soft whirring noise, and then she was in the air, headed towards the roof.

They landed hard on the rooftop while their pursuers called out from the ground below. Breathing heavily, Lois looked over the lip of the roof and watched as officers surrounded the building. "Great," she muttered. "So how do we get away now?"

"Get in," Batman barked. Lois opened her mouth to ask him what he was talking about, but as she turned her head, she saw it. Obscured in the shadow, a hulking monstrosity of a vehicle sat waiting. Though she couldn't get a clear look at it, Lois got the impression of a crouching beast waiting for its prey.

Well, that certainly explained how he'd gotten onto the grounds without being seen, she supposed. For one brief moment, she balked and considered refusing. He was an accused murderer, after all, and while she didn't think the stories about him rang true, she was still putting an awful lot of trust in him. Then again, what choice did she have? She was perched on the rooftop of an insane asylum, with no visible means of escape, and he was…well, to be honest, he was the biggest story to cross her desk in a while. Hell yes, she was following this story, regardless of any potential threat to her personal welfare.

Her momentary pause had been noticed, however. She saw Batman stop by the vehicle, whatever it was, and turn to watch her. He didn't say anything, but she had already begun to realize he was a man of few words. He just waited, as if they had all the time in the world for her to make up her mind.

Of course, they didn't, and she should be mindful of that. But instead of making a dive for the only obvious means of escape like a rational person would do, Lois walked up to the Batman and asked, "Did you really kill Harvey Dent?"

He neither flinched nor looked away. "Yes."

She narrowed her eyes and stared at him. Normally, she thought she had a pretty good internal lie detector. She figured she had a pretty good sense of when people were lying to her. It was part of the job. But she read nothing off the man in front of her. Was he lying or telling the truth? She had no idea.

"I don't believe you," she retorted, though she could hear the faint thread of uncertainty in her words.

There was a clang of metal against brick, and Lois knew the cops were trying to access the roof. They didn't have much time. "It doesn't matter whether you believe me," he pointed out. "You can either trust me, or you can wait for the police. Your call."

She frowned. "This isn't over," she promised, scrambling up the side of the vehicle into the rear seat. As she strapped herself in, she asked, "So, how are we going to get away from – oh." She broke off when she realized her question had become moot. They lifted straight up into the sky and then shot towards the lights of the city. It seemed Batman had a set of wings.


	5. TêteàTête with the Bat

**A/N: **I forgot to mention something in my previous author notes, for those who aren't familiar with Smallville. In this story, Lois will act a LITTLE different than she would if I were using comics Lois (or even LnC Lois) as inspiration. The Lois in Smallville is still relatively young, and - as of the time this story is set - hadn't been a reporter for more than a couple of years. (She's still a relative newbie to the DP, having only been there about a year, herself.) So she doesn't have quite the polish or the finesse that she'll have when she's a little older and more seasoned. I am accounting for her youth and relative inexperience in her characterization in this story. Now, on to the post!

**Chapter 5**

**Tête-à-Tête with the Bat**

Lois had always been a big city kind of girl, it couldn't be denied. She'd lived in small towns – well, okay, one small town. Heck, when she was growing up, she'd lived on Army bases in godforsaken parts of the world that made a small town look bustling by comparison. So maybe it was her natural inclination, or maybe there was something about Gotham. Maybe it was the fact that she was flying over Gotham in the company of a walking, talking myth. Whatever the reason, she caught her breath as they flew across the sky.

Then she turned at stared at the back of Batman's head. It wasn't terribly illuminating. The pointed ears of his cowl did absolutely nothing to convey either his emotions or the state of his inner guilt or innocence. In fact, they revealed exactly nothing, other than a previously-undiscovered desire for Lois to know where he'd gotten his costume. It wasn't like bat cowls could be found at the local Wal-Mart.

Had he crafted his own costume, or had someone made it for him? A girlfriend? A wife? She'd assumed he had to be single, given the nocturnal pattern of his vigilante duties, but that wasn't necessarily true. And, anyway, whoever had made his costume, how had it been crafted, of what materials, and from what pattern? She wasn't likely to get answers from him, but she pondered these questions and more as she stared at the pointed ears of his cowl.

It occurred to her that the Batman probably didn't know where she lived, so she didn't know where he was taking her. To his lair? Did he have a lair? Did bats have lairs or did they live in nests or something? And, whatever it was called, was she okay with the idea of him taking her there?

Okay, that was a stupid question. Of course she was okay with him taking her there. To be the first reporter to get a scoop on the Batman's secret lair/nest/whatever? She'd give her left arm for that opportunity. She still didn't know if she could trust the Batman, but even if she knew for certain that he'd killed Harvey Dent – heck, even if she had proof he'd killed a few dozen people – she'd probably still walk into the lion's den. Bat's den. Whatever.

But, in the end, he didn't take her to his private sanctuary. He landed on the roof of the Gotham Gazette, instead. Lois probably should have told him she didn't work there, but she didn't – mostly because she didn't know where else to tell him to take her. She sure as hell wasn't directing him to her hotel room. She was reckless, not stupid.

Batman helped her out of the craft. She winced when her bare feet hit the graveled rooftop, but she didn't take her hand off his arm. She didn't want him to disappear on her, at least not until she'd gotten him locked down for an interview. He didn't seem to be hurrying to leave, so she had to wonder why not.

"Um…so…about that interview," she said, offering him her most charming smile.

"I told you, I don't do interviews," he reiterated.

She shrugged. "Can't blame a gal for trying." Not that she intended to give up; she'd just have to find a way to change his mind. "So, why'd you bring me here, then?" He didn't answer right away, so she elaborated, "I can't help but think that you could've left me behind. Since you didn't, I figure there's a reason why."

His gaze was unnerving. She was almost tempted to do something, just to shake him up a little. She couldn't tickle him through his breastplate. If she tried to slap him, he'd probably react automatically and break her arm. She could grab him and lay a kiss on him, but as impetuous as she was, she wasn't sure she was that brave. With that ability to stare a person down, he could teach a three-star General a thing or two.

"Do you always jump to conclusions?" he asked her after a moment.

She nodded unapologetically. "It's a huge time saver," she said, falling back on her usual excuse.

For a second, she thought she saw the corners of his mouth tighten, as if he was trying to hold back his amusement. It had to be a trick of the shadows, she decided once she blinked and the expression was gone. "You took files from Arkham," he said, alluding to the question she'd asked previously.

Ah. She figured he was after something. She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at him. "I did," she admitted. "You want to see them." It wasn't a question.

He responded anyway. "Yes."

"Well, tough," she replied. The papers under her dress itched like hell, but they were hers, at least insofar as she could claim ownership over something she'd pilfered in an act of dubious legality. She wasn't going to just hand them over, not even to him. He didn't say anything; he just continued with that unnerving stare of his, making her feel like she was a recalcitrant child who had been sent to the principal's office. It was starting to get on her nerves. Maybe she would smack him.

"They're mine and you can't have them," she continued. Great. Now he was making her sound like a recalcitrant child. Smacking him was sounding better and better. She huffed and put her hands on her hips. Still, if he wanted them, he'd have to go after them himself.

She could swear he read her mind, because his eyes swept down her body. "That's a nice dress," he commented.

Lois lifted her hands, palms out, in a halting gesture. "Don't even think about it!" she cried. She'd take a couple steps back, to increase the distance between them in case he should get any ideas, but her back was to the wing of the aircraft. She had nowhere to go.

He bowed his head, but she could swear she heard something that sounded like a cross between a snort and a chuckle. Then he spun around and climbed back into the cabin of the craft. In anticipation of his exit, Lois skittered away from the wing, not wanting to get caught up in whatever propulsion system the bat-craft used.

As Batman pulled down the hood to seal the cockpit, Lois warred with her conscience. She had information that he could probably use, but it wasn't easy for her to part with any information she had an exclusive on, let alone something so hard-won. Then again, it was pretty unlikely he was a reporter in his day job. Reporter by day; Batman by night? Yeah, right.

Finally, she sighed and capitulated, at least a little. "Batman, wait!" she cried. When he paused, she gave a tiny grunt of irritation at herself and said, "Dr. Quinzel." He didn't say anything, but she supposed he deserved some sort of elaboration, so she added, "I mean, you should look into Dr. Quinzel. She is – was – the Joker's therapist. Anyway, she had a lot of sessions with him. I mean a lot." She paused, then lifted a shoulder in a half of a shrug and finished, "I just thought you might look into it."

He nodded and moved to close the canopy again, but Lois called out for him again. This time, when he looked at her, she tried one more time, "About that interview…?"

"That really is a nice dress," he said, ignoring her lead-in. Then he closed the hood of his plane and flew away. Lois watched until he'd disappeared into the skyline, then she sighed and turned away. It was only then that she realized she was on the roof of the Gazette, in the heart of Gotham City. Her hotel was a good distance away, and her car was still parked near Arkham Asylum.

Lois threw back her head and groaned into the sky. "Oh, son of a bitch!"


	6. It's Not Easy Being Alfred

**A/N:** For those who aren't familiar with Smallville, the "Red-Blue Blur" (or, later, just the "Blur") is how they referred to Not-Superman on the show, once he came out "publicly" in Metropolis and Lois "discovered" him. She named him that since all anyone ever saw was - you guessed it - just a blur of red and blue streaking past. They didn't allow him to be called "Superman" until the series finale. (And, boy, did they blow that moment. Do NOT get me started on how they screwed up the finale to the entire freaking series by making it more important to give Chloe her freaking 'special moment' instead of caring first and foremost about paying off 10 YEARS of Clark becoming Superman. Seriously. Don't go there. It will end badly.) Anyway, that's what the reference in this chapter is to.

******Chapter 6**

**It's Not Easy Being Alfred**

"Master Wayne, I had hoped, when you went out in a suit of actual cloth last night, you might have decided to take the night off and spend the evening in a real bed," Alfred Pennyworth said mildly as he placed the breakfast tray next to Bruce's elbow. Bruce responded with a noncommittal hum, which apparently prompted Alfred to add in a deceptively mild tone, "I don't know why we bothered to rebuild the Manor after the fire, given that you never step foot inside of it. If you insist upon spending so much time in these caves, perhaps we should move your furniture down here?"

Bruce barely glanced in the other man's direction as he stared at the computer screen displaying a list of Arkham's maximum security inmates. "I'm all for it," he agreed absently. "And we rebuilt because _you _insist I keep up appearances. Don't tell me you've changed your mind." His attention still on the computer, he reached for a piece of toast on the tray and bit into it, grimacing slightly when he realized it was stone cold.

"It was warm when I took it up to your bedroom. You do remember that you have one?" Alfred chided him, before Bruce could say anything. "And I haven't changed my mind. I had hoped that, if you pretended to have a life outside of Batman for a while, you might accidentally find yourself with one. It's all well and good for the Bat to spend his every waking moment in pursuit of justice, but you are also a man, and that means you need the occasional good night's sleep. At least once a month or so." He paused and then added significantly, "_And _a social life."

Bruce had been about to switch screens to the other subject of his current investigation, but his finger paused over the keyboard as he glanced over at Alfred. He masked his amusement as he pulled his hand away, leaving the image of the Joker on the screen. Alfred was clearly gearing up for a full-scale lecture. Knowing how much his beleaguered butler enjoyed his speeches about the importance of maintaining at least the appearance of a normal life, Bruce told himself it would almost be a shame to deny the older man the opportunity to do something he so loved. "I have a social life," he pointed out, watching his butler out of the corner of his eye. "I have you."

Alfred's long-suffering sigh spoke volumes about the inadequacy of this response as he placed a stack of morning newspapers on the desk, next to the breakfast tray. "I'm gratified to be of such service, sir," he replied with dry sarcasm. "But I was thinking more along the lines of female companionship. Miss Parker expressed her deepest regrets that you cancelled your date to the museum exhibit last night."

"I hadn't planned on going, but I changed my mind at the last minute," the younger man admitted, picking up the top newspaper and flipping through the pages. He would read the entire paper in-depth later, but he knew his actions would project an air of casual disregard that would drive his oldest (and, according to many, only) friend insane. "Mostly to try to avoid a lecture about my social life. Clearly, my plan is working."

The butler ignored this comment. "She has already called this morning to reschedule your date. For the fifth time. She seemed quite upset, as a matter of fact. Shall I make arrangements for you, or –?"

"Send her my regrets," Bruce interjected, the corners of his mouth twisting into an expression that – with a bit of imagination and after a good deal more practice – could eventually be akin to a smile's weaker, puny little ghost of a brother. He had turned to another section of the newspaper and saw the large black-and-white photo dominating an entire page of the _Gazette_. He'd had a rough night but his morning was already looking up. He wondered what the foolish, reckless, tenacious, stunning, and altogether lovely Lois Lane would think of this. "Something's come up."

Alfred sighed again. It was strange how the older man could convey so much with just an exhalation of breath. "Something usually does," he admonished.

For the first time, Bruce turned fully to face his butler. In mild exasperation, he asked, "Are you a butler, Alfred, or a mother hen?"

"With you, Master Wayne, I am both," Alfred offered with a slight nod in his direction.

Bruce bowed his head so the butler couldn't see his expression. Somehow, Alfred always knew when his charge was in a good mood, even when Bruce thought he had masked his thoughts. "Well, you can stop worrying," he said, deciding it was finally time to cut the older man a little slack. He tossed down the paper, still displaying the black and white photo of Lois and Bruce in front of the museum. It landed on the desk, directly in front of his companion. "As it happens, I met someone last night."

There was a long pause as Alfred looked at the paper. "I see." For a man who liked to nag, he could express himself with an economy of words when he so chose.

"That's it?" Bruce asked, eyebrows arched. He had turned back to his computer to pull up the file he'd been examining before his butler came down, but this underwhelming response got his attention. "That's all I get? You've been nagging me for ages about my need for a social life, and all you have to say now is 'I see'?"

"I would be happy to order a new set of monogrammed towels, but I need to know the lady's name first. I would settle for her initials," the older man replied.

Bruce had opened his mouth to respond to the quip when it hit him that his companion might not be joking. For the sake of any hope of future peace of mind, he decided to let that one go and turned to his computer again. A few keystrokes brought up "the lady's" bio once more.

"Lois Lane, reporter for the Daily Planet," he explained. He scanned – not for the first time – her photos, her list of articles, and all the other information he'd been able to uncover about her. She had a serious problem with the concept of "trespassing" (which he'd already discovered for himself) and didn't seem to be good at accepting the word "no" (which he'd already guessed). "She's only been at the paper a couple of years, but she's had quite a few headlines in that time. She's even the reporter who first broke the story on Metropolis's superheroes – the Green Arrow and the Red-Blue Blur."

"The Red-Blue Blur?" Alfred repeated, sounding a little skeptical of the name.

"I know. It lacks the panache of the Batman, don't you think?" Bruce replied, and if his voice was a little bit smug, he figured it was only warranted. "Anyway, I ran into her a couple of times last night – first at the museum and then when she snuck into Arkham Asylum during the breakout."

A myriad of expressions crossed his old friend's face before Alfred said in a droll fashion, "She snuck into the Asylum during a prison escape? I don't know whether I should give my heart time to recover or tell you to marry her immediately. And how did Miss Lane respond to meeting the Batman? I assume he did make an appearance?"

"She told me to watch my hands and demanded an interview," Bruce replied, his voice dry. "Bear in mind, I was trying to save her life at the time. She still only agreed to let me do it on the condition that I grant her an interview." The two men exchanged looks – Bruce's was mildly beleaguered, while Alfred's was a combination of utterly delighted and amused. "I will give her this, though. I saw her two times last night, and both times, she was definitely…unique. Unexpected."

That was putting it mildly. He remembered his surprise when she'd raced up to him, thrown her arms around his shoulders, and kissed him on the cheek. His shock had only grown when she'd offered him fifty dollars to help her out. Of course, neither reaction compared to his utter amazement to see her sneaking down the corridors of Arkham, as if a full-scale riot wasn't about to erupt. Three surprises in one night, for a man who wasn't used to being taken by surprise at all, was definitely memorable. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since, even when he knew he should have been entirely focused on other things. Such as performing his duties as Batman while still staying out of the way of the police.

Alfred made a soft sound of gratification. "I shall order the new towels immediately." Bruce was now reasonably certain that his butler wasn't joking; he could only hope Alfred waited to meet Lois first. At the very least, he hoped to have a chance to call in his marker for a date before Alfred ordered any engraved wedding invitations. "Which reminds me, shall I go prepare your shower, sir, or should I see if I can install some sort of hose down here, to spray you off every once in a while?"

"What?" Bruce asked, thrown by the question.

Alfred gave him a significant look and then turned to go. "You may live down here like a bat, but there's no reason you have to smell like one."

Bruce sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the cave roof in exasperation. "I was trying to track down escaped maximum security prisoners, Alfred."

"And I'm sure Mister Fox will appreciate sharing the smell of that experience with you when you meet him this afternoon. However, as 'unexpected' as Miss Lane may be, I'm certain that even the most unique of women would prefer not to do the same." The observation was dry but incredibly pointed. The younger man would have argued the matter, but when he shifted in his seat, he realized that his butler had a point. If he planned to see Lois Lane again, he probably should at least wash off the stench he'd picked up during his trip through some of Gotham's finer sewers.

And he definitely planned to see Lois Lane again. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face when he tracked her down and told her he planned to call in her IOU. He honestly couldn't decide if he really hoped she'd concede the battle gracefully. He was actually eagerly anticipating her next move, what she would pull out of her sleeve if she decided to duck out of her promise again.

As he headed to the elevator leading up to the ground floor of the Manor, he hummed softly to himself. _You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss…_


	7. Love and War

**Chapter 7**

**Love and War**

Lois hummed to herself as she juggled her cup of coffee, the two morning papers she'd just purchased from the newsstand, the paper bag with her breakfast donut inside, her purse, and her room key. She finally managed to get the door open without spilling everything onto the ground and staggered into the room.

She let her purse fall to the floor, heedless of where it landed, dropped the key in the general direction of the purse, slid her coffee onto her nightstand, kicked off her shoes, and flopped onto the bed. Only when her stomach made contact did she remember that "flopping" wasn't really a good idea on a rock-hard mattress, and she winced at the bruising force against her ribs.

Lois rolled onto her back and pulled the donut out of her bag with one hand while grabbing her coffee with the other. She took a big bite and followed it with a long pull from her cup. She was definitely feeling the need for coffee this morning, given how late she'd gotten back to the hotel the night before. It had taken her forever to get a cab to take her close enough to Arkham for her to retrieve her car.

Feeling slightly more caffeinated, Lois dragged the newspapers onto her lap. It took a bit of juggling, but she managed not to spill her coffee or drop her breakfast as she unfolded The Daily Planet.

The headline made her scowl, mostly because the name in small print beneath it wasn't her own. She was seriously going to have to have words with her editor. Granted, the front page of the Planet usually covered either global issues or events in Metropolis, but still. Her story on the breakout was certainly more worthy of the front page than the President's stupid economic summit.

Okay, so not everyone would agree with her on that, she had to concede.

She flipped pages until she found her article about the breakout. At least it was above the fold. For the moment, she shelved the issue of where her article would have been more appropriately placed and scanned the text. Her disgruntlement was slightly improved when she saw her editor hadn't butchered it too badly. Sometimes he got a tad overeager with his little red pen.

Slightly mollified, Lois tossed the Daily Planet aside and reached for the Gotham Gazette. Now that was a paper with the good sense to put the breakout on the front page, above the fold. (Of course, it had happened in Gotham, but Lois deemed that to be largely irrelevant to the issue.) She scanned the article. It was okay, she supposed, but nowhere near as good as her own. That was the problem with reading other newspapers; she couldn't resist the urge to critique. Okay, to be fair, she did the same thing with other reporters at the Planet.

Lois had been accused of having something of a competitive streak. She didn't know what caused such vicious rumors. She only made the tiniest of gloating chuckles when she saw that the reporter at the Gazette didn't have a number of facts that she'd been able to put into her own article, and she could only imagine an editor somewhere across town was blowing a gasket. Of course, the Gazette reporter hadn't snuck into the Asylum when things were rapidly escalating towards a full-fledged riot. Most reporters had a better-developed sense of self-preservation.

Her curiosity satisfied, she almost threw the Gazette to the floor, to join the discarded Daily Planet, but she was bored, so she flipped through it instead. Apparently, there was going to be a hike in bus fares in Gotham over the next few months. WayneTech stock was on the rise. The Gotham Griffins anticipated a rough season, due to some injuries to key members of the team. And on the society page…

"Oh. My. God," Lois breathed, almost spilling her coffee as she saw the photo covering the page. Her. Her face. Well, her profile. Of course, she wasn't alone in the shot; she'd hardly make the front page of the society page on her own merits. The camera had caught the kiss she'd given the stranger who had acted as her savior at the fundraiser the night before. In the photo, the embrace seemed much more intimate than she remembered it being.

Her eyes dropped to the caption at the bottom of the page. The caption in huge, pulsating, 2,000-point font (though perhaps she was exaggerating) read, "Bruce Wayne's New Girlfriend?"

Bruce Wayne. Bruce Friggin' Wayne. She had roped Bruce "Born with a Silver Spoon in His Mouth" Wayne into helping her get into the party. She might not have recognized him by sight, but she was certainly familiar with the name. Gotham's Golden Boy, owner of Wayne Enterprises, and she'd offered him a fifty to help her out. The man probably tipped the local barista a fifty just for getting him a cup of coffee! At this point, she didn't think it was possible for her to be a bigger idiot.

As she indulged in a moment of retroactive embarrassment, she scanned the article. She hadn't even finished it yet when her phone rang. Lois groaned when she saw the name on her caller ID. Oliver Queen.

She hit the button and held the phone to her ear. "Hey, Ollie," she said with a sigh.

"Lois!" Oliver's voice was warm, and Lois couldn't help but smile at the sound of it. "So, how's the investigation going? Tracked down the bat yet? You know if you want a little backup, all you need to do is ask."

She shifted, trying to get more comfortable as she rested her head against the wall. "It's coming alone. You see my article this morning?"

"I did," he acknowledged. "And for the moment, let's just gloss over the terrifying thought of you sneaking into an insane asylum during a breakout." He paused and then explained, "I read between the lines."

She offered a weak smile. "It's all part of my charm, Ollie! You know that!"

He sighed. "It's what's going to send me to an early grave. Consider yourself lucky I'm not on a plane right now, ready to drag you back to Metropolis so I can keep my eye on you."

Lois snorted. "Oh, I'd like to see you try."

"Anyway, funny story," he said, ignoring her statement as he changed the subject. "I was flipping through the paper today and I came across a picture of an old buddy of mine. He was with a girl who looked remarkably like you. You know anything about that?"

Unsure how to explain, she decided to stall. "Since when do you read the Gotham Gazette?"

"Since you told me you were planning to set up camp in Gotham for a while. I figured you'd get yourself into trouble; even I'm astonished you managed it so fast. I thought it would take at least another week or two. I don't know what scares me more – that you're breaking into Arkham Asylum (almost certainly without backup), or that you're dating Bruce Wayne."

"Why? What's wrong with Bruce?" she asked, spurred by his comment.

"Haven't you heard his reputation? He's quite the ladies' man."

She snorted. "Whereas you're as pure as the driven slush. Not sure you have a lot of room to talk, Ollie," she pointed out.

He took her criticism with good grace. "What can I say? I let the most amazing woman I've ever known get away. Nobody else has managed to stack up, so I'm afraid I'm doomed to settling for second best." Lois shifted uncomfortably, this time due more to his words than the mattress. However, her discomfort was forgotten and she rolled her eyes in disbelief when he continued, "Happily for me, there is a long line of 'second best' willing to apply for the position."

"Anyway," she said firmly, redirecting the conversation again. "I'm not dating Bruce Wayne. I just needed his help to get into a fundraiser last night. In my defense, I didn't realize who he was at the time."

Oliver chuckled. "Please tell me you didn't tip him, too."

"No," she admitted, smiling at the memory of how she'd first met the man on the other end of the line. She seemed to have a thing about offering billionaires money. "I did offer him a fifty for his trouble, but I may have tried to weasel my way out of paying him." Oliver laughed aloud at that.

"Poor man," he said, once he'd regained control of himself. "You know, it's always amazed me that you can have informants in every back-alley bar and rathole in Metropolis, but you fail to recognize some of the richest and most influential men in the world."

"Eh," Lois said, the small exhalation of sound tasked with conveying the full extent of her complete lack of caring. "When billionaire playboys and society page socialites start coming through for me with solid tips about citywide corruption schemes, I'll start paying attention to them. Otherwise, the only time I care about Who's Who of the Rich and Useless is when they've committed a crime I'm working to expose." She paused and then added, a bit belatedly, "Um, I wasn't talking about you, when I made that crack about the Rich and Useless."

She knew him well enough, she could picture his flippant smile as he replied, "Sure, you did, but since you know I work very hard to be both rich and useless, I take it as a compliment." She frowned, wondering if she should argue the point. It would hardly make sense for her to tell him he should take offense, but she also knew he'd been through a rough time, in the previous couple of years. When he made self-deprecating comments, even when he sounded like he was joking, she had the feeling he wasn't. "Anyway, this isn't about me; it's about Bruce Wayne, Crown Prince of Gotham."

"So you know him well?" she asked, tempted dig for more information.

"Lois, he's a billionaire. It's a pretty exclusive club. We wear pins and use secret handshakes and everything," he teased. "But if you're digging for information," damn it; she hated that he knew her so well, in some ways, "you're wasting your breath. I didn't call you to give you pointers on your love life. I called you to tease you about it."

"Oh, thanks," she replied dryly.

Oliver chuckled and continued, "So you really had no idea who he was when you grabbed him and laid one on him, huh? I bet he doesn't even know what hit him. I know I didn't."

Lois sighed and grumbled, "That's not fair! I didn't kiss you!"

"Unfortunately," he muttered, but she ignored him.

Not losing steam, she continued in her defense, "And how was I to know you weren't a delivery boy?"

He replied lightly, "Oh, I don't know. The fact that my picture has been plastered across every paper and magazine ever published in Metropolis. Ever. For, I dunno, my entire life."

Lois ignored him as she growled through gritted teeth, "I don't suppose there's any chance I'm going to be able to live this down, is there?"

Ollie still sounded entirely too amused when he responded, "Not any time soon, no." He paused and she heard a low murmur in the background. Then he said, his voice sobering slightly, "Listen, I've got to go. You sure you don't want me to come out there? Honestly, it would be no trouble; I'd be happy to do it. I meant it when I said I'd be there for you, whatever you need."

She smiled warmly, knowing he couldn't see her face but would hear the appreciation in her tone when she murmured, "Thanks, Ollie. That means a lot to me, I mean it. But this is just something I've gotta do alone, you understand?"

"Not really, but I'm trying to," he admitted. He fell silent for a second. When he spoke again, his voice was low and earnest, all traces of teasing gone. "He never deserved you, you know. Not saying I did, either, but at least I was smart enough to know what I was throwing away, even if I was too dumb to do anything about it. You know if I had a chance to do it all over again, I'd do things differently, right?"

They weren't talking about Bruce any longer. It was hard to talk around the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, and Lois picked idly at her threadbare blanket, attempting to suppress her emotional reaction to the subject that she spent so much time trying to forget.

She remembered what she'd told the man on the other end of the line, as they sat together on a front porch at a wedding that hadn't gone exactly as planned. _"I thought – just for a minute – that someone needed me."_ The memory still made her cringe, as much from the memory of how she'd let her guard down as because she realized she'd actually wanted to be needed. The fact she'd been so monumentally, almost laughably, wrong in that minute was just an added an extra dose of self-recrimination to the entire situation. "You don't mean that," she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, I do." Then Oliver cleared his throat and said with false cheer, "Anyway, just remember that I'm here for you, okay? Whatever you need, all you have to do is ask."

"Thanks, Ollie," she replied, touched by the sincerity of his offer. "You're a good friend."

He made a noncommittal sound. "So you'll take my advice and stay away from Bruce?" he tried one last time.

Lois snorted. "Please. I didn't even give him my name. I'm sure he has no idea who I am, I'll never see him again, and this whole thing will be forgotten by tomorrow." Just then, she heard a knock on the door. She frowned, wondering who it could be. Probably someone who had the wrong room. "Anyway, there's someone at the door, so I've gotta go now. Talk to you later. Bye, Ollie." She heard him wish her goodbye, and then she hung up the phone.

There was another knock, and she got to her feet and crossed the few steps to the door. When she threw it open, she let out an audible gasp at the sight on the other side of the solid panel. Her savior from last night. Bruce Wayne. Standing on her doorstep. Well, lounging, more like. He was leaning against the doorjamb, one hand slipped casually into the pocket of his high-end, tailored suit, his other hand behind his back. His feet were crossed at the ankle. Her gaze dropped to his feet; his shoes probably cost as much as her car. Her gaze swept up his body. No, his suit cost as much as her car; his shoes would have just covered the price of the monthly rent of a high-rise apartment in downtown Metropolis.

And she'd offered him fifty dollars as an incentive to help her out. Though, really, she supposed she should have been more appalled at herself for having stiffed him.

After her initial start of shock, Lois crossed her arms over her chest and tossed her hair over her shoulder. With a smile of bravado, she drawled, "Mister Wayne, I presume."

"Ah, Miss Lane," he said. "And here I was thinking you hadn't caught my name last night."

"Hm," she replied, leaning against the doorjamb. "I know you didn't catch mine. How'd you find me?" He held up the newspaper he'd been hiding behind his back, showing their kiss in lurid black and white. "Nice try, but I happen to know for a fact it didn't print my name."

Bruce frowned and glanced at the paper. "True," he admitted. "Happily for me, I have a friend who's good at tracking people down. He was a little busy last night, so it took him a little longer than it normally would have, but he managed to come through for me in the end."

Oh. Right. It was a stupid question, she realized in retrospect. It wasn't like he didn't have enough money to hire a fleet of private investigators to track her down, should he so choose. The fact that he'd chosen to do so was a bit of a surprise. It was also incredibly flattering, if she had to be honest. Not that she'd admit as much to him. She did allow herself to smile, choosing discretion as the better part of valor as she mentally debated how high to set her sarcasm meter.

Bruce didn't seem taken aback by her silence. He uncrossed his ankles and straightened. "Anyway, I'm here to cash in your promise for dinner and a dance."

Lois snorted, tried to stifle the sound, and emitted a strange sound that was somewhere between a squawk and a choke. Hoping she wasn't flushing too red, she acted like she'd intended to make a sound like a cat choking on a bit of bone. "Really? And the fact that it's only…" she paused and looked at the clock, "half past noon doesn't strike you as kind of a huge flaw in your plan?"

He leaned in and explained in a conspiratorial murmur, "Call me crazy, but I thought you might need a little convincing."

Lois sighed and rolled her eyes, lest he think his charm was actually getting him anywhere. Just because her pulse had a nasty tendency to race when he was near didn't have to mean anything, as long as she kept it to herself. "Well, a billionaire in this part of town is only going to draw attention. You're going to get mugged, hanging out on my doorstep like this. I guess you should come inside."

His face didn't change expression, but she could swear she saw amusement in his eyes at her gracious offer. She stepped back, allowing him enough room to squeeze past. "Nice place," he mused as he looked around the Spartan space.

"You think so?" Lois asked, shutting the door and glancing around with pursed lips. "Thanks! Trade you?" She'd be more than happy to live in a mansion while he roughed it in this hellhole.

He turned to face her, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I was being polite."

She hummed, a non-committal noise. "Yeah. I don't usually bother with that, myself."

"So I've noticed." He wasn't smiling when he said it, but his gaze was too warm to take offense.

He was staring at her in a way that made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. Like he was seeing right through her or something. Which was about the moment that she realized how she must look – her hair hastily thrust into a messy ponytail, her face devoid of makeup, and her morning coffee and donut still on her breath.

Oh, good god.

She shifted, an awkward jerking of her shoulders, as her brain scrambled for a way to distract him. "Anyway, why don't you have a seat while you come up with a mental list of all the reasons you think I'm going to join you for dinner, all of which I'm sure I will ignore? I just have to – ah…" Her voice trailed off as she glanced around and realized that there was only one place to sit in the room. On the bed. Well, if that wasn't just a new level of nightmare.

"Gimme a moment," she mumbled, darting to the bed. She threw her newspapers, clippings, notes, and the rest into a haphazard pile, and swept them into her arms as she kicked at the clothes sticking out of her suitcase, which had been pushed halfway under the bed. She gave her suitcase a swift kick, trying to shove it against the wall, and her foot connected with a crumpled piece of paper. The paper skittered out from under the bed, rolling against the wall, but Lois didn't notice.

"I'm just gonna…" she nodded towards the bathroom door. She looked down at the papers in her hands, glanced towards the bathroom, and then huffed in irritation. "Oh, just sit down, would you?" she griped, storming away.

Of course, her bathroom was roughly the size of a closet, and there wasn't really a place to store her papers. She glanced around desperately for a moment and then shrugged, dumped them onto the floor of the shower, and pulled the curtain closed. She'd sort it out later.

It took only a few minutes to make herself respectable. When she walked back into the bedroom, she saw that Bruce wasn't sitting on the bed. He was standing against the wall, reading a crumpled piece of paper. She didn't realize what it was until he glanced up and said, "Interesting. You really think Batman's a racecar driving ninja trapeze artist magician? I have to admit, I don't think I've ever heard that theory before."

"Hey!" she cried, making a grab for the sheet of paper. "That's just…it's personal!"

Somehow, instead of snatching the paper out of his grip, she found her hand trapped in his. His voice dropped to a low murmur as he asked, "How's your head?" She pulled back a little, surprised. "I thought I saw a bruise, earlier, when I came in. What happened?"

"Oh," she said, lifting her hand to her hair. Her bangs should cover the bruise, left behind after her impact against the wall the night before. Then again, her hair had been pretty disheveled before, and if he'd seen it, the bruise must have been visible. "Just a little occupational hazard, really," she said sheepishly, combing her hair over her forehead with her fingers. "Not a big deal. Believe me, I've had worse." She pulled her hand out of his and stepped away.

His eyes still locked on hers, Bruce opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then she saw him appear to change his mind. "So, you're investigating the Batman? Trying to figure out his secret identity?"

She frowned, turning away as she folded the crumpled sheet of paper and slipped it into her pocket. She'd throw it away later, but for now, she just wanted it out of sight. "Well, if he wants to come up and introduce himself to me, I certainly wouldn't turn down the interview. But I saw Batman in action; he's a hero." She knew she should keep her objectivity as a reporter, but after meeting him last night, she was even more certain that the official story on him didn't make sense. "I don't know what happened the night Harvey Dent died, but if Batman's going to keep doing good in this city, people can't know who he is right now. So I'm not here to uncover his name. I'm here to clear it." She grinned. "Then I'll worry about who he really is and land the story of a lifetime."

Bruce didn't say anything; he just stared at her for a long moment, his head bowed. He was looking at her with an assessing expression on his face, as if she was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. As the silence stretched between them, Lois realized just how close he was. She swore she could almost feel his breath against her skin. It was oddly intimate, standing with him like this, and that realization made her inexplicably nervous.

With a soft cough, Lois took a step back, breaking the spell that had fallen between them. Then she braced her hands on her hips and threw him a cocky smile as she offered her challenge. "Anyway, you didn't come here to talk about the Batman. You were about to try to convince me. I should probably warn you, I'm pretty stubborn."

"I find that hard to believe," he deadpanned, and she didn't even try to hide her answering grin. Lois was well aware of her flaws (or, as she considered them, 'virtues for those with discriminating taste'). At times, she was even proud of them. "But I should probably warn you, I don't fight fair."

Lois tried to hide her smile. Damn it, it wasn't fair that, with his looks, he was charming, as well. Did he have to so obviously corner the market on sex appeal? She looked away, to hide her expression, and caught sight of the paper he'd been holding earlier, which he'd thrown on the bed while she was out of the room. The photo of the kiss was clearly visible, even from across the room.

Maybe in all seriousness, this was a bad idea. Lois's romantic history actually surpassed "train wreck" and launched well into "nuclear meltdown" territory. Most of the guys she'd dated in the past several years had tried to kill her, it seemed. Her only really "successful" relationship had been with Oliver Queen, since the two of them had managed to part on good terms. Still, the end of the relationship had been painful enough that she'd had to drown her sorrows in a pint or two of Rocky Road ice cream.

For the sake of her heart – not to mention her waistline – was it really a good idea to dip her toe in the romantic pool again? Hadn't she just recently sworn off even thinking about giving romance a shot for the next decade or so? And she couldn't entirely ignore the warning she'd just been given. After all, Bruce was another billionaire playboy, and if Ollie was telling the truth, then he didn't exactly have the best track record with the ladies. She'd certainly been down this road before, and it didn't end well for her. She'd had to close the door on a potential future with Oliver Queen because she'd come to realize that, even without his extracurricular activities, he'd always leave her behind in one way or another. No matter how much he cared about her, there would be times when she had been – and would likely continue to be – something a little too close to an afterthought for him.

Was Bruce really likely to be that different? He didn't moonlight as a superhero, as Ollie did, but that didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't leave her behind. Besides, Lois had decided to focus on her career and not allow herself to be distracted by another doomed relationship. She wasn't so cynical that she thought that love didn't exist, but she had come to embrace the idea that it just wasn't for her.

No, this was a bad idea. She couldn't believe she'd even let things get this far. She was here in Gotham to work, to track down a story about the Batman. She was now faced with a potential series of future articles on the recapture of the city's Most Wanted. The last thing she needed was to be distracted by her federal disaster zone of a love life, regardless of how nice she found Bruce's eyes or the way he made her laugh.

She straightened, crossed her arms over her chest, and tried to force a nonchalant smile. "You know, this has been fun, but I really should get back to work." She scooted towards her purse, picked it up, and fished around inside of it until she found her wallet. She opened it and pulled out some cash, which she then held out to her companion, hoping he wouldn't notice the slight trembling in her hands. "I told you I'd give you a fifty for your help, so I guess it's only fair if I pay up. But, really, I think it's best that we leave things at that."

A flash of surprise crossed Bruce's face at her sudden change of mood, but he didn't say anything right away. Instead, he stepped forward and reached for her hand. When his fingers closed around hers, she felt a brief spark of disappointment, which was ridiculous. She'd wanted to fend him off, and now she was a little let down that he was letting her off the hook so easily? How absurd.

But he didn't take her money. Instead, he wrapped her hand around the cash, tucking it into her palm. "Keep it," he murmured, his face distractingly close to hers. Seriously, there was no reason he had to stand so close to her right now. Or ever. There was apparently only so much oxygen to be had in a room at any given time, and he was clearly taking up her share because she found herself a little short of breath, with him so close. She tried to pull her hand back, but he held it fast in his own. "You promised me dinner and a dance, remember? I intend to hold you to it."

She huffed. "Yeah, well…I've changed my mind."

He didn't move, and she couldn't read his expression when he replied, "I haven't." Then he dropped her hand and walked towards the door. "I'll pick you up at eight," he said over his shoulder.

Her jaw dropped. That was it? She'd told him she wouldn't go to dinner with him, and he came back with 'be ready at eight'? And he expected her to actually agree? She followed him to the door, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me! Did you miss the part where I said I didn't want to go to dinner with you?"

"First of all, you didn't actually say that. Still, I got the point, but since you actually do want to go to dinner with me, I've decided to ignore it," he replied, sounding almost flippant. He didn't even turn to look at her, the rat.

Lois was so irritated, she didn't know if she wanted to scream or throw something at his head. He started to leave, but she raced forward and ducked around his arm, slapping her palm against the wooden door with enough force to slam it closed. "Are you always this arrogant?" she snapped, glaring at him.

Bruce looked up, appearing to consider the question. Finally, he glanced down at her and said, "Actually, I think…yes." He paused, as if mulling over the question for a moment more and then gave a decisive nod. "Absolutely. Yes. I'm definitely always this arrogant."

Had she thought he was charming? She'd meant 'annoying.' He was annoying. "Does this usually work with the ladies, Wayne? Because let me tell you, down here, in the real world, it's not gonna fly. You can come by at eight if you want, but I'm not going to be here!"

The corner of his mouth quirked up just a little. "Sure you will," he predicted. "You want to be able to throw my dinner invitation back into my face and, if at all possible, throw in an 'I told you so' for good measure."

"I…you…!" she spluttered. How had he known she'd been planning on doing just that? Of course, in her hastily-concocted fantasy, she'd be dressed casually (though still making sure to look better than she had when he'd surprised her at the door) and she'd greet him with the casual nonchalance of someone who'd forgotten the invitation entirely. "You can't honestly think I'm going to go to dinner with you!"

"Why not?" he asked mildly. "You promised."

"Under duress! Which clearly doesn't count!" she retorted, more from irritation than honesty.

He didn't seem perturbed by her revisionist history as he pulled open the door. "You know what they say, Miss Lane. All's fair in love and war."

Lois crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at him. "All right, Mister Wayne. I guess it's war."


	8. Work Before Pleasure

**Chapter 8**

**Work Before Pleasure**

Bruce was in an almost uncharacteristically good mood later that day, when he strode into the office of Wayne Enterprise's CEO. It didn't take long for him to conclude that his mood wasn't to last, though the blame for that wasn't rightly placed at Lucius Fox's feet. Bruce just hated this, the day-to-day mind-numbing business of running a corporation. It was why he was so pleased that Lucius was at the helm of his company. The older man had a head for business. He liked it. He was good at it. And while he took care of the daily operations of Wayne Enterprises, Bruce could focus on other things – which usually meant his duties as Batman.

But although Lucius was exceedingly capable in his position, he had the rather irritating tendency to insist that Bruce occasionally assist in various corporate deals. Today, he was had been called in for just that reason.

After exchanging pleasantries, Lucius said, "I saw the reports about the breakout last night. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you know a better way to get the stench of the sewer out of armored breast plating. According to Alfred, I don't have a full appreciation of how difficult it is to properly clean my suits."

The older man grinned. "Not really my area of expertise," he admitted. "I also saw the newspaper article on the museum function last night." He let his voice trail off expectantly.

Bruce groaned. "Don't even start. Believe me, Afred's doing enough nagging about my love life. Don't you have something better to do?"

Lucius Fox's grin widened. "I'm not sure I do." Bruce glowered, and his companion made an obvious and concerted effort to get his amusement under control. He didn't entirely succeed, but he had to good grace to drop the subject. "Well, I know you've had a long night, but we have an appointment to meet with the folks from EcoFocus today. If we want to show that we're serious about reducing Wayne Enterprise's environmental impact, you should sit in on the meeting."

Bruce sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It wasn't that he didn't see his companion's point, as he was the only remaining Wayne of Wayne Enterprises. He was deeply concerned about his company's environmental impact. That said, he hated these meetings. He'd had to sit in on a number of them, in the last several months, as various subsidiaries of the company implemented new directives to try to clean up Gotham City – both metaphorically and literally. Lucius was perfectly capable of running things, and, frankly, Bruce would much rather be at home, taking a much-needed nap.

However, much though he'd love to point this out, it was an argument that had failed numerous times already, so he didn't bother. Instead, he sighed as he capitulated, "All right. I'll try to stay awake."

He failed. He could feel himself drifting off, not five minutes after he lowered himself into his chair in the conference room. Admittedly, he didn't try too hard to ward off the encroaching nap, but, then again, discussions of programs geared towards lowering emissions rates were hardly designed to keep him awake. That the subject was important didn't prevent it from being just a little too dry to keep him from nodding off after a long night with no sleep.

He didn't know how long he'd been asleep when a loud crack jolted him awake. He was halfway out of his chair, ready to attack, when he saw the redhead kneeling to pick up some materials she had dropped next to his seat. "I'm sorry, Mister Wayne," she said, her voice cool. "I didn't mean to disturb your nap."

He affected his usual air of casual nonchalance as he lowered himself back into his chair. "No problem, though I was having a really good dream."

"Well, then, it's a shame that our meeting was scheduled at such an inconvenient time. I'm sure we can reschedule for a time you're not normally sleeping or wasting your life playing up your role as billionaire playboy. If such a time exits." Her cold smile did nothing to hide her obvious irritation.

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Lucius intervened. "Bruce Wayne, let me introduce you to Pamela Isley. She's the consultant with EcoFocus who is going to be working with us. Miss Isley, I have no doubt Mister Wayne is gratified that our companies will be working so closely together."

"Gratified. I'm sure that's the word for it," Miss Isley said, her voice low and caustic. Then, louder, she asked, "I'm certainly glad to see that you're taking our partnership so seriously. Are you always so attentive in meetings?"

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Lucius cut him off again. It was really getting to be something of an annoying habit. He turned to one of the other representatives of EcoFocus, held his hand out to shake, and said loudly, "Well, I'm sure we're all looking forward to getting started. I'll prepare those figures you requested right away."

The redhead stood and turned her attention to Lucius, murmuring polite sentiments to him as he ushered the group out of the room. However, before she left, Bruce saw her turn to look back at him, her eyes still narrowed thoughtfully.

As the door swung closed, Bruce put the redhead out of his mind and rose to his feet. He had wasted enough time, though he supposed he should be grateful for the nap. He shot a quick glance at his watch and grimaced. If he planned to take care of a few things before his date, he was going to have to hurry. He knew he wouldn't have a chance to patrol much as Batman that evening, so he wanted to do what he could before his date.

But even as he turned to tell Lucius goodbye, his mind was preoccupied with other things. Namely, how he was going to convince Lois to go to dinner with him as planned. When he'd left her, she'd looked mad enough to skewer him, so he could only imagine what her mood would be towards him that night.

He almost couldn't wait to find out.

* * *

Lois frowned as she looked around the waiting area of the emergency room. She watched as a doctor passed through, striding quickly as he skimmed a chart. With a regretful sigh, she watched as he disappeared through another door and shifted the bag of ice she held against her bare ankle.

Why hadn't she kept the doctor's coat she'd pilfered the night before? She'd been concerned it would give her away, standing out against the darkness, but she could really use it now. Her ankle had to be on the verge of developing frostbite at this rate.

After her surprise visit, Lois had decided to distract herself from the unexpected events of the morning and focus on her story – or stories, as she was now invested in the breakout the night before. For the moment, she was focusing on the story that had brought her to Gotham. She'd given the matter some thought and decided the next step in her investigation should be to try to acquire Harvey Dent's medical records. She'd seen the pictures printed in the papers after his death, but the grainy black and white photos had raised more questions then they had answered.

The D.A. had been horribly, irreparably disfigured in the explosion, and that kind of injury had to have left more than just physical scars. She wanted to see the extent of his injuries, both physical and psychological. She had read the news articles about the Joker's attack on the Gotham ***** Hospital, when Dent had gone missing. It was believed the Joker had abducted him.

Lois wasn't sure if he'd had a chance to be psychologically evaluated before the abduction, but if he had, she wanted to find the records. She also wanted to know if he'd been on any medication at the time of his death. Of course, she wouldn't be able to do either if Dent's medical records hadn't survived the explosion at the hospital.

The problem was, hospital staff usually weren't willing to just hand over those kinds of medical records. They adhered to that whole 'patient's right to privacy' directive to an annoying degree, given that it was impeding her investigation.

Lois sighed and looked at her watch. She was going to need to come up with some sort of plan, as her original one (which was somewhat tenuous and was built mostly around the idea of 'find a way to sneak into the records room') wasn't working out. She hadn't anticipated the increase of security at the hospital today, though she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised, all things considered. Now that the Joker was free again, nobody was taking any chances. Lois had tried to sneak into the back several times, but she'd run into armed security guards at every attempt.

With a sigh of frustration, she stood and tossed her bag of lukewarm water – that used to be ice – into the trash. There was no point in wasting time here any longer. She was just going to have to go about her investigation in another way, at least for the time being.

When Lois got back to her car, she sat behind the wheel and grabbed her manila folder filled with the articles and notes she'd compiled from the passenger's seat. Frowning, she dumped the articles onto her lap and rifled through them, searching for inspiration.

She'd tried to investigate the Batman, but she'd hit a dead end there. Nobody who really knew what had happened that night would really talk to her, and the man himself had been pretty adamant about not giving her an interview.

Given her difficulties investigating Batman, she'd decided to turn her attention to Harvey Dent. But it looked like she wouldn't have a much easier time pursuing that avenue of investigation. It would take her a little longer than anticipated to get a hold of his medical records, if such a thing even proved to be possible.

So where to go now? Lois sighed as she scanned the papers on her lap. Then, pinching the bridge of her nose, she leaned her head against her headrest and let her mind wander over everything she'd read. As her thoughts drifted, she considered the timeline.

From what she'd been able to piece together – since heaven knows nobody had been willing to actually talk to her – the Joker had been on a concerted campaign to unmask the Bat. He'd targeted three prominent Gothamites, including Harvey Dent. She knew the Joker had shown up at a fundraiser in Dent's honor, thrown by Bruce Wayne.

Bruce. Damn it; she'd been trying to avoid thoughts of him all day. Cracking open one eye, she glanced at the time and saw that it was only a little after five. Plenty of time to finish what she was doing and get back to her hotel in time to meet him at eight. Not that she planned to go out of her way to do so, or anything. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. But surely it didn't hurt for her to note that it would take her about a half hour to get from the hospital to the hotel, and she would need about an hour to get ready for the date.

Not that she would be doing any of that. But if she decided to, it was good to know she still had plenty of time.

"Focus, Lois," she muttered to herself, scowling both at the clock and the direction of her thoughts. So, the Joker had shown up to the fundraiser, but the Batman had arrived in the nick of time.

When the Joker's attacks caused the people of Gotham to cry for the Batman to unmask, Dent announced that he was the vigilante. The Joker and his men had attacked the armored transport vehicle with Dent inside, and Batman had intervened to save him, capturing the Joker in the process.

Although the news reported on the events following the Joker's capture, details had been a little lacking, and Lois couldn't help but feel that there was a lot more to the story than had ever been reported.

Lois knew that the Joker's arrest had led to an explosion inside the police station. She also knew that the Joker's men had captured Harvey Dent and his girlfriend, fellow attorney Rachel Dawes. That was when reports started to get really sketchy.

Dent had been kept in one building filled with explosives; Dawes had been tied up in another. Though the Batman and the GCPD had tried to rescue them both, Dent had been disfigured and Rachel Dawes had been killed in the subsequent explosions.

With a frown, Lois grabbed her notebook and jotted down a name: _Rachel Dawes._ The Joker had nearly killed her at the fundraiser and had been responsible for her death in the explosion. Had the Joker intentionally targeted her or, as was generally assumed, had she just been collateral damage? But, then again, why would the Joker have targeted her? He had to have known that Batman would try to rescue one or both Dent and Dawes from the bombs. In fact, given his targeting of Batman, he had to have counted on it. So he had to have been hoping that Batman would either die in his attempt to rescue the two of them or that he would be broken by the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to save them both.

Or had Batman been the point? Reports said that the Joker abducted Harvey Dent from the hospital before blowing it up. Why? And yet, the next time the District Attorney had been seen, it hadn't been as a hostage of the Joker and his men. The next time he'd been seen was the night he died.

Had the Joker been trying to drive Dent insane? Had it worked? Dent had died at the ruins of the building in which his girlfriend had been murdered. According to the news reports, he had been alone with Commissioner Gordon, who claimed he had gone to the building to rescue Dent. What had happened next was the biggest mystery of all. It was the reason she was in town.

The Commissioner had refused to talk about what had happened in the building. All that was clear was that Gordon and Dent had been together, supposedly talking. Batman had shown up, and the District Attorney had died.

But Dent hadn't been the only one who had died that night, and Batman had been blamed for all of the deaths. From what she'd pieced together of events, the Joker couldn't have committed the murders. Perhaps some of his men had done so, acting on his orders, but why? Why would the Joker order those people in particular dead?

That clearly didn't make sense. Someone else had to be behind it. The world thought the Batman had committed the murders, but that didn't make sense any more than the Joker did. Lois had always been struck by the illogic of assuming that the Batman would have just snapped and killed so many people, without any clear motive and contrary to his apparent character.

Of course, they could be going about this all wrong. Maybe those murders had nothing to do with Dent's death, but if they weren't connected, why was everyone content to lay the blame at Batman's door? And why would Batman have gone along with it? Although, given the vigilante's reluctance regarding interviews, maybe he'd just never taken the opportunity to clear the air.

But there was one question that had been nagging at her since she'd first started digging into this story. It was the reason she'd spent the better part of the day trying to find a way to get a hold of Dent's medical – and hopefully psychological – records.

What if all of them were wrong? What if it hadn't been the Joker or Batman? What if it had been Harvey Dent himself?

She couldn't ignore the fact that he'd been killed at the same place his girlfriend had been murdered. According to some reports, she may have even been his fiancée. His fiancée had been killed; he'd been hideously disfigured…even if those two things hadn't driven him insane, it didn't take a lot of imagination to think he might have wanted some revenge.

But Lois had to admit that even that didn't make a lot of sense. She groaned and threw the notebook and the rest of her papers back on the passenger seat. If Dent wanted revenge on Rachel's killer, why would he kill those men? And assuming that Gordon hadn't been telling the truth about what had happened that night (which Lois thought was a reasonable assumption), what had he been doing there? If Dent wanted revenge, he would have gone after Joker, wouldn't he?

It came back to Gordon. Other than the Batman, he was the only one who knew what had happened that night. If only he would talk to her…

But maybe he didn't have to. He was a police officer, and the best police officers Lois knew tended to be meticulous note takers, particularly in the course of their duty. Gordon was the Commissioner of Gotham, and everything she'd read about him led her to believe he was a good cop and a good man. Maybe he had a file or a report that contained the truth about Dent's death. Hell, at this point, she'd settle for a note jotted on the margins of a cocktail napkin, if it meant getting some answers.

So, all she had to do was find a way to break into the Commissioner of the GCPD's private office and root through his things in search of a notebook or a diary or something of the kind. She also had to find a way to sneak into the hospital and steal the former District Attorney's confidential health records. Then, all she had to do would be to break into the headquarters of some political National Committee, steal some sealed FBI files, or perhaps find a way to bug the Oval Office, and she could finish off her week with a trifecta of crimes that would undoubtedly result in her spending the best years of her life behind bars.

Well, she'd already seen the inside of Arkham Asylum. It didn't seem so bad.

Which reminded her that she still had to review the files she'd "acquired" from the Asylum the night before. She'd perused them a bit, but since her focus was on the story about the Batman, she hadn't given them a good deal of her time.

She looked at the clock again. It was a quarter to six. Well, she supposed now was a good time to go back to her hotel, take a shower, change into some clean clothes, and look over those documents. Not that she was planning to get ready for that date with Bruce, she told herself firmly, because she wasn't. She had no intention of going to dinner with him, no matter how much charm he used on her. But it wouldn't hurt to look her best when she met him at the door to turn him down in person.

Lois started the car and pulled into traffic, heading towards her hotel, satisfied with her plans for the evening. She would turn Bruce down on his offer for a date and then turn her attention back to her investigation, where it belonged. Her gaze shot towards the notes, and she stifled a sigh. She knew she should be excited about her evening plans, but they suddenly sounded dull.

Maybe she should take the night off from work, focus on something else. Not Bruce, she reiterated firmly to herself. But maybe she'd rent a movie to watch on her laptop. She could stop by a gas station or convenience store for some popcorn.

_Casablanca_. She hadn't seen that movie in a while. Maybe she'd rent that.

"Oh, hell," she groaned when she realized why that movie had come to mind. She really had to get Bruce Wayne off her mind. _Aliens_. She was renting _Aliens_, something that had absolutely nothing to do with him at all.

Because she was turning him down, she reminded herself firmly. Even so, she glanced at the clock again and decided she would go out and rent the movie after letting Bruce off the hook. After all, she wanted plenty of time to make sure she looked her best when she did it.

She refused to even consider why she wanted to look good for Bruce when she wasn't going to date him. She absolutely, unequivocally was not going to date him.


	9. An Unexpected Date

**A/N: **I'm sorry I wasn't able to post this earlier this weekend! I used to be three chapters ahead, but I'm afraid I've gotten a little behind, recently. I originally intended this chapter to be longer, but I didn't get it finished in time. Well, better than nothing, I suppose! While I've tried to update this once a week, I MAY not get a chapter posted next weekend. I'm going out of town to meet my boyfriend's family, so I don't think I'll have time to work on it. Never fear; once I get back, I'll devote my attention to finishing the next chapter. I know everyone's been eager to know what happens on Lois's date with Bruce!

**Chapter 9**

**An Unexpected Date**

Lois was still in the bathroom, putting the finishing touches on her makeup, when she heard the knock on the door. She slipped her lipstick back into her bag and threw herself one last assessing look before darting towards the door. After spending far more time on her outfit than she usually spent preparing for dates she actually intended to attend, she'd finally decided on a black pencil skirt and dark red button up shirt. It wasn't the casual outfit she'd originally intended to wear, but it wasn't an outfit that screamed 'date' either. It was the kind of thing she'd wear to work, so she figured it was a safe choice that wouldn't send the wrong signal.

As she reached for the knob, she paused to take a deep breath and looked down at her outfit. Damn, maybe she should have gone for her little red dress, instead. No, _no_, she pulled her train of thought short; she wasn't going to do that to herself. She wasn't going on a date with Bruce, so she wasn't going to second-guess the outfit she wore while she turned him down.

With that reminder firmly in mind, she schooled her features, attempting an expression of nonchalance, bordering on boredom. The last thing she wanted was for Bruce to see her smile. When she was reasonably confident that every line of her face was projecting a distinct – if misleading – air of ennui, she threw open the door.

The moment she saw the man on the other side, she felt her bored expression melt into a confused smile. "Um, hi?" she murmured. "Can I help you?"

"Miss Lane? My name is Alfred Pennyworth; I work for Bruce Wayne. He asked me to pick you up for your date this evening." His voice was warm and soothing, like the cups of tea so beloved in his mother country.

Her eyes narrowed as she considered the dapper gentleman on her doorstep in silence. He seemed like such a kindly, paternal older man – the kind of man only the most hard-hearted could rudely rebuff with no sense of guilt. "Oh, well played, Bruce," she muttered. Then she sighed and stepped back. "Uh, hi. Do you want to come in?" She was going to have to find a way to turn him away gently, without being rude, and that had never been her strong suit. She might as well try to exercise what good manners she could as she tried to find the diplomacy that so often eluded her.

Once her visitor had stepped into her hotel room, she shut the door and turned to him. Rubbing her hands in a gesture that betrayed her self-consciousness, she cleared her throat and began, "Um…listen…Mr. Pennyworth, is it? I really don't –"

"Alfred, please," he corrected her gently.

"Right. Alfred," she repeated. "Anyway, I know why Bruce sent you here. I should have expected he'd do something like this, the jer – er…" She cleared her throat and tried to fight off a sheepish smile. "I hate to put you in this position, but I'm afraid Bruce wasted your time. You see, I have no intention of going to dinner with him tonight. I actually told him so earlier today, but I guess he's more stubborn – and conniving – than I anticipated." She neglected to mention that those two adjectives had been used to describe her more than a few times, in the past.

"I see," he said, and then he paused, as if considering his next words. As he thought, he shifted, and his foot bumped against a bucket on the floor next to the door. Lois watched him glance down then look up at her with an expression of mild curiosity.

"Ah," she began, trying to come up with a perfectly logical reason why she would keep a bucket of ice water next to the door. Perhaps she could pretend she always had one on hand for emergencies. Although Lois normally prided herself on her ability to talk her way out of a situation, her natural brilliance at fabrication failed her in this instance.

She sighed heavily. If she wasn't going to accomplish the whole "tact" thing, she might as well be honest. Perhaps Alfred would then report back to Bruce about the lucky break he was getting. "Okay, after our conversation this morning, I figured he might be a _little_ stubborn. I thought I might need something to reiterate my point, if he decided to do that whole arrogant jerk thing again." Glancing at the bucket again, she shrugged. "To be honest, I'm not sure water would be emphatic enough to make my point. I'd have preferred tar and feathers, but I couldn't get my hands on tar on such short notice." She was joking about the tar, of course. Well, she was at least 30% joking about the tar.

Alfred made a soft hum of agreement as he contemplated the bucket again. She was almost certain he was going to blast her for planning to play such a prank on his employer, but instead, he looked up at her thoughtfully. "Perhaps you might add some food dye. Or, you could use oatmeal instead of water. Master Bruce has always loathed oatmeal."

Lois let out a sharp bark of surprised laughter. Was it possible that Alfred's mind was as devious as hers? "Oh, I think I like you, Alfred," she admitted.

He smiled. "I believe the feeling is mutual, Miss Lane."

"Which makes it even more worse that I have to put you in the awkward position of telling Bruce that I'm turning down his invitation to dinner," she admitted with a grimace.

"Hm," Alfred replied, the sound thoughtful. "Well, then, Miss Lane, would you do the honor of accompanying me to dinner?" he asked, offering her his arm. "It has been a long time since I've had the opportunity to dine with such a charming companion."

She threw him a dubious look, though she was amused by his offer. "You don't think Bruce would take it as an opportunity to try to horn in on our date?"

"I shall be certain to clarify the situation for him," Alfred said firmly. When she still hesitated, he added, "Master Wayne can chaperone, if you doubt my intentions."

Lois laughed again. Oh, she really, really liked Alfred. And, honestly, what would it hurt? If she was being honest with herself, she wouldn't mind spending an evening in Bruce's company. She just didn't want to risk getting wrapped up into a romantic entanglement she could ill afford. But she liked Alfred (and rather suspected she'd like Bruce a little more than she wanted to admit). She was also a little lonely. In Kansas, she may have ostensibly had friends and family nearby, but in all honesty, she'd felt alone longer than she cared to remember. What could one evening hurt?

Plus, she couldn't wait to see Bruce's face when she announced that she was Alfred's date for the evening.

"You know what, Mr. Pennyworth? I would be honored to join you for dinner," she said, throwing him a smile as she took his arm.

* * *

A while later, as Alfred pulled the Bentley into the front drive of Wayne Manor, Lois hoped her gasp wasn't too audible. What had been impressive in pictures was downright awe-inspiring in real life. (She might have spent a little of her time that day digging into her non-date for the evening, but she didn't intend to admit to as much.) Looking at the Manor, it reminded her of her first trip to France, several years before, when she'd stood outside of the Louvre for the first time. The massive edifice had captured both her breath and her imagination, and she'd listened in awe as a nearby tour guide had spoken of its history. She particularly remembered the story of the king who had demanded his servants carry him from one end of the immense building to the other. (Lois now couldn't remember which king it had been; she was reasonably certain it was a Louis, but she wasn't enough of a French historian to remember which in particular.)

Of course, she wasn't going to demand that Alfred – or Bruce – carry her throughout the interior of the Wayne Manor (amusing an image though that was). However, she was very tempted to ask Alfred for a map, in case she should get lost looking for a restroom. At the very least, she hoped there were helpful "you are here" diagrams interspersed liberally throughout the interior of the building.

The car pulled to a stop in front of the doors, and Lois grabbed for the handle to let herself out. A soft cough to her left stopped her. "Please, allow me, Miss Lane," Alfred said gently, and she let her hand drop to her lap. He had grudgingly agreed to let her sit in the front passenger seat instead of having her sit in the back, when she'd explained that she would feel a little pretentions, having him drive her around like, well, a driver. Apparently, however, he was willing to bend only so far.

Alfred walked around the car and held open the door for her, and Lois smiled warmly at him as she stepped out of the car. Then she turned her attention back to the Manor and said appreciatively, "It's beautiful, Alfred. Was it built by the Wayne family?"

"Not originally. A railroad financier named Jerome Van Derm originally built the house in 1855. He lived there for only a few years before his fortunes took a turn for the worse. He deeded the property to Soloman and Zebediah Wayne in 1858. They were brothers, and the two of them – although admittedly, it was mostly Soloman's doing – expanded it to the size it is today. Of course, this isn't the original structure, as Wayne Manor was recently the victim of an unfortunate fire." Lois remembered that the newspapers had speculated – or downright accused – Bruce of being the cause of said fire, but even she had enough tact to know not to point that out. Alfred, unaware of her rare moment of tactful discretion, continued, "However, we have been working to restore the Manor to its original state. As you can see, the exterior work has been completed, but there are a few areas of the interior that are still under renovation."

They walked together inside together as he elaborated on the house's history. As she suspected, Alfred had almost an encyclopedic knowledge of the Wayne family's house and history – a testament to the level of genuine caring he felt for the home and its family. Lois had never really had that kind of connection to home and family before, so she couldn't help but get carried a little away by his enthusiasm.

"You're not boring her with ancient history, are you, Alfred?" The sound of Bruce's voice made Lois jump, and she unconsciously smoothed her hand down her skirt. Her outfit – perfect for the role she had originally intended for it to play – seemed a little out of place on her unexpected date in these surroundings. She couldn't help but feel that she should be dressed in a gown or something similar. It didn't help that Bruce was dressed a shade more formally, in his immaculately tailored suit and tie.

"I think the stories are fascinating, Alfred," Lois said, coming quickly to his defense. Then she turned her attention back to Bruce and lifted her eyebrows in challenge. "I love hearing stories about the past, don't you?" she challenged him. And, to be fair, her statement was more challenge than truth. Lois actually found history to be – on the whole – mind-numbingly boring. She much preferred to concentrate her attention on the here and now.

Bruce's gaze was warm as it swept over her. "I much prefer to think about the future," he admitted. "Lois, I'm glad you could come. I hope I didn't leave you waiting long. I had some business to attend to, and it took me longer than expected." She could swear he noticed her nervous fidgeting and picked up on her discomfort regarding her choice of attire, as he added smoothly, "I haven't even had a chance to change. You don't mind if I take off my jacket, do you?"

Without waiting for her to reply, he shrugged out of his coat and undid the knot of his tie, slinging both over the banister. Alfred step forward and scooped them up before the fabric had even had a chance to settle, urbanely slinging the discarded items over his left arm.

When Bruce bowed his head to roll up his sleeves a little, Lois felt her heart twist in her chest. If she didn't have a little bit of a crush on him before that moment, she developed one on the spot. She wasn't fooled; she knew he had noticed her discomfort and had removed his jacket in an attempt to make her feel more comfortable. She was somewhat surprised to notice that it worked. The moment he'd removed his coat, she'd begun to feel less ill at ease.

If she wasn't careful, she could seriously lose her heart to this man. Given how perceptive he clearly was, she would have to be certain not to let him see her with her guard down, or he would pick up on her feelings. To that end, Lois crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin a little in challenge, determined to hide her reaction to his unexpectedly thoughtful gesture.

Once he'd finished rolling up his sleeves, Bruce looked up at her and continued smoothly, "As I was saying, I'm glad you agreed to come to dinner tonight. After our conversation earlier today, I thought you might turn my offer for dinner down."

Lois moved forward, having forgotten Alfred's presence entirely. "How could I refuse?" she murmured in an attempt at an irritated grumble. "You really don't fight fair, do you?"

"I told you I didn't," he admitted. "Anyway, I wanted a date with you. Surely you've had men go to such lengths to pursue you before."

Yeah, Lois had been sent candy and chocolates before. One guy had even left a mixed tape on her doorstep, though that had been back in junior high, so it hardly counted. She'd never before had anyone sic a kind, elderly, paternal, intensely British butler on her. This was a definite first.

But if Bruce wasn't going to fight fair, neither was she, she told herself firmly. _Don't forget to watch your heart, Lois. You know what'll happen when you let your guard down. He'll leave you behind like everyone else._ With that thought firmly in mind, she said with forced bravado, "Well, I hate to tell you this, but you should have spared yourself the effort. I'm not here to take you up on your offer for dinner. I'm here to take Alfred up on his."

Bruce looked taken aback as his eyes darted towards his butler. The gesture was Lois's first reminder that Alfred was still in the room. "Alfred's offer?" he repeated, throwing the man in question a curious look. Lois scooted back a bit, to stand next to her "date."

"Ah, yes. Miss Lane has kindly agreed to stand as my date this evening," Alfred said, his tone unflappable, as if he regularly told his employer that he'd thwarted his romantic interests. He reached out an arm to Lois, and she took it, throwing a beaming smile at Bruce that was a little wider than strictly necessary, under the circumstances. Her inconvenient crush didn't mean she couldn't enjoy watching Bruce squirm a little. "You may chaperone."

"I see," Bruce murmured, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully at the two of them. He didn't seem angry. He didn't even seem terribly put out. He seemed…calculating. Lois actually couldn't wait to see how he'd get her back for this one.

Before Bruce could concoct any dastardly plan, Alfred continued mildly, "Now, I hate to be rude, Miss Lane, but I'm afraid I need to go check on dinner. I'm afraid I wasn't expecting to have such charming company this evening, so I may be a little while."

Lois almost offered to help, but she had the feeling Alfred would consider it improper to allow her to do so. Besides, if edible food was the goal, her assistance would only prove to be counterproductive. Anyway, Bruce was already a step ahead of her. "Oh, I can do that. Anything I can do to help."

The younger man started towards a door that presumably led into the kitchens, but Alfred intercepted him smoothly. "I don't believe that will be necessary." Speaking over Bruce's left shoulder, he explained, "I'm afraid Master Bruce is barred from the kitchen during meal preparation."

She couldn't see Bruce's expression but she could hear his exasperation when he retorted, "Oh, come on, I only did it once! I was twelve!" Alfred's expression made it clear that the restriction would stand when Bruce was eighty, and Lois chuckled softly. She didn't know what twelve-year-old Bruce had done, but she was pretty sure she could relate to it, whatever it was. She'd been barred from the kitchen a time or two, herself.

"All right," Bruce capitulated, turning to face her, and Lois only saw the trap when she was about to fall into it. "If I can't help you in the kitchen, I might as well do what I can to entertain your date. Since you're interested in history, can I offer you a tour of the house? It is my family's home, so, Alfred's protestations to the contrary, nobody knows more about it than me. It's been in my family for five generations." Behind him, Alfred coughed slightly, and Bruce cleared his throat. "Excuse me. I meant six. Sometimes it's hard to keep track."

Lois glowered at them both. They might not have planned this in advance, but they'd certainly worked together to back her into a corner. Her competitive streak made her want to up the ante to show them both that they couldn't so neatly outfox her like this, but then the hilarity of the situation struck her and she couldn't help but laugh. A case of mistaken identity, a bad Bogart impersonation, a newspaper article, pigheaded arrogance on both sides, a bucket of ice water, and a butler had all conspired to bring them together. Maybe she should give in a little, just this once.

It didn't mean she had to let her crush carry her away to the point where she fell in love with him. It didn't even mean she had to stand as his date for the evening. But she could at least let Bruce show her his home. Besides, she couldn't wait to hear what stories he would recount – or invent – on their tour.

And, admittedly, she wanted to steal a few moments alone with him, to see if she could make him smile at her the way he had on the night they first met.

"All right," she said, her laughter trailing off into a sigh. "I give in. I'd love a tour. But, just for the record? I'm still Alfred's date for the evening."

"I wouldn't dream of stealing you away from him," Bruce said solemnly, offering her his arm. Leaning in, he murmured just loud enough for his butler to hear, "Honestly? I'm a brave man, but even I wouldn't cross Alfred. You don't even want to know the things he does to get back at me." Actually, Lois could imagine, given Alfred's co-conspiratorial scheming earlier in the evening. Over-starched shirts and short-sheeted beds were probably just the tip of the iceberg.

She took the proffered arm, but as they walked past, she mouthed to Alfred, over Bruce's shoulder, _You set me up._ The butler didn't even try to hide his smile as he turned and disappeared through the doorway leading to the kitchen.

Leaving her alone with Bruce.

_Oh, boy. Lois, I really hope you know what you're getting into…_


	10. Dinner for Three

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay! (My boyfriend's been chastising me for making you all wait.) Things get really hectic at work as the holidays get closer, strangely enough, and I struggled with some writer's block on this one! Hopefully next chapter will go better! Incidentally, does anyone know the date (in-show, not air) of Chloe and Jimmy's wedding? I couldn't find it online, and my only other option would be to watch the episodes leading up to and including "Bride" - which, I'm reasonably sure will cause me to want to gouge my own eyes out. Particularly as it would mean watching a LOT of Chloe. Anyone here able to lend a hand?

**Chapter 10**

**Dinner for Three**

Bruce gave Alfred the slightest nod as the older man walked out of the room, silently grateful to his friend for his assistance. He didn't know what the canny man had done to get Lois to agree to dinner at Wayne Manor – other than apparently to promise that Alfred would be her dinner date. Honestly, Bruce didn't know whether to demand Alfred give him an explanation or whether he should ask for dating tips. Though, to be fair, he had never had problems convincing a woman to have dinner with him in the past. Of course, he'd never met a woman like Lois Lane before.

Which brought him rather firmly to the issue at hand. He had to give his date a tour of the Manor, which he certainly could do, and tell her about its history, which he almost assuredly could not. He escorted Lois through the door leading to the more public areas of the house, making a mental note to ask Alfred to type up some sort of crib notes or something, for the future. Not that it would help him much right now.

Over the next fifteen minutes or so, Bruce guided Lois through various rooms, inventing history and anecdotes about the wall sconces, knickknacks, and whatever else he found within. Like he cared about the origin of the carpets or chandeliers. As he spoke, he watched his date out of the corner of his eye, gauging her reaction to his comments. She seemed suitably interested and appeared to listen attentively to his stories, but she offered little comment. He didn't know if she was bored or if she was plotting something. The former would be bad; the latter would be worse, he was fairly certain.

He was just wondering whether he should set the room on fire or just pick up the nearest object and bludgeon himself with it when they walked into what had been restored as a relatively small morning room of sorts. There wasn't much to see; the room hadn't been completely refurbished yet. The only furniture in the room was a large wooden table set close to the window, so it was perfectly positioned for the morning sun.

The wood of the table was old and weathered, slightly warped but newly varnished. Since it was the only object in the room that seemed even remotely interesting, Bruce watched as Lois zeroed in on it, and he stepped forward to stand by her side. "This is beautiful," she commented, leaning down to inspect it more closely. He tried not to be too obvious about enjoying the view, but even still, he was grateful that her back was to him. Otherwise, he was sure she'd be more than happy to follow through on his earlier bludgeoning fantasy.

He watched as she swept her hand across the tabletop and was almost entranced by the fluid gesture. "What's its story?"

"Hm?" Bruce asked, being brought rather abruptly back into the conversation when his mind had most assuredly been elsewhere. He scrambled to recover before Lois grew suspicious. "Hm? Oh, it was…actually, my great-great-great-grandfather built it, I believe out of the wood of a pirate ship. We were able to recover it from the fire."

Lois, who had bent over next to the table, straightened at this and turned to him. For the first time, the corner of her mouth was quirked into a smile and he could see her try to restrain a chuckle. "A pirate ship? Really?" she asked. He nodded in return. "That's interesting. Particularly since it's Amish." She gestured to the table. "I saw the manufacturer's logo burned into the wood."

Oh. Well. That was unexpected. Bruce looked to the table and then back to his – well, Alfred's – date. He considered trying to sell that what appeared to be a logo had been burned into the wood in the fire, in some sort of freakish coincidence. Since that sounded entirely too ludicrous, he offered the deadpan explanation, "It was an Amish pirate ship."

She laughed, for the first time since he'd started his tour. It was entrancing, watching her. As he had begun to suspect was characteristic of everything she did, she threw herself into her enjoyment. He hadn't known that kind of unrestrained joy in too long to remember. "An Amish pirate ship?" she parroted in obvious disbelief, crossing her arms over her chest and grinning at him. "Really? Did your great-great-grandfather have to fight off many Amish pirates, or was this a one-time thing?"

"It was my great-great-great-grandfather, and you know, you shouldn't underestimate Amish pirates. They're very ferocious, from what I understand," he chastised her with a straight face.

Lois lost it, and her chuckles turned into full-throated laughter once more. The only reason he could refrain from joining in with her infectious mirth was that he was pretty sure that years of a nearly humorless existence had made him immune. But, for the first time since he'd decided to dedicate his life to being a symbol of justice in Gotham, he wished he were the kind of man who gave in to that sort of thing.

As her laughter began to die off, Bruce stepped closer. "Do that again," he murmured softly, tempted to run a finger down the curve of her cheek.

Her laughter off abruptly as she sucked in a sharp breath. "Wh-what?" she asked, her voice catching.

"You're beautiful when you laugh," he explained softly.

He saw her cheeks pink and she scooted a step back. Bruce almost smiled. As Batman, he'd watched as she hiked up her gown and turned, unarmed, to face a seemingly endless number of prisoners, who were more than willing to go through her to their chance of freedom. He had seen that she'd been afraid – she would have had to be insane not to have a little fear in such a situation. Still, she had neither flinched nor backed down. But she stepped back when he got too close.

A lesser man would be wounded, or would take it as a mark against him. Bruce was not a lesser man.

He saw her irritation with herself the moment she stepped back. "S-so…did your great-great-whatever-grandfather manage to pilfer any other items from the Amish Black Bart, or…?"

Bruce bowed his head so she wouldn't see his reaction. If he had to make up another story about a painting or sconce or whatever, he was going to scream. "You want to see something I actually do know something about?"

Her eyes narrowed and she gave one brisk nod of her head. Bruce turned and led her away, to the private sections of the house, generally closed to the public.

Following the fire, Alfred and Bruce had decided to restore the "public" areas of the house first (after the Batcave, naturally), and so many of the rooms to be reserved strictly for family – or, rather, Bruce's – use were still under renovation. Alfred had worked tirelessly to try to restore all rooms to their previous state, even attempting to find exact replicas of the original decorations. It was a painstaking process. Some things, of course, could never be replaced, but Bruce was pretty sure Alfred would die trying.

As they walked into the study, Bruce heard Lois give a soft sigh, and he tried to see the room through her eyes. Further along in the restoration process than most of the other rooms, it was lavishly decorated in warm earth tones. The fireplace in the far wall was stocked, but the grate was still cold.

"Oh, this is lovely," Lois murmured as walked around the inviting room. She paused next to a mahogany table covered in photographs. He saw her pick up one of the frames and stepped closer to her, in order to look over her shoulder.

It was a family photo, the last one taken of his family before his parents were murdered. She stared at it in silence for a long moment, then she turned to look up at him over her shoulder. "Your mother was beautiful." As she spoke, she turned to face him.

Tilting his head to the side, he considered the woman in the picture. "She was," he agreed, "Although Alfred says I take more after my father."

She made a noncommittal noise and glanced down again. "You do resemble him," she agreed. "Though if I didn't know any better, I wouldn't believe that you were this little boy." He shot her an inquisitive look, and she explained, "You're so different. Not just older, but…" She paused and bit her lower lip, and he could tell she was debating whether to finish her thought. "Your eyes." She handed him the photo. "Your eyes are different."

He was about to ask her to explain, but she'd turned away again, replacing the photo on the table again. After a moment, she picked up another. Although he couldn't see the image in the frame, he knew which picture she held. "Rachel Dawes," he supplied in explanation.

He was watching her profile, so he saw her slight frown. "Harvey Dent's girlfriend? I didn't realize the two of you were friends."

Gently, he took the photo from her and put it back on the table. "We grew up together, actually. Her family worked on the estate."

He saw her open her mouth and then close it again, as if she'd intended to speak but had changed her mind. He was strangely grateful for her restraint. He didn't know what he would say if she asked him about Rachel. He also didn't really want to talk about her right now.

She gave a slight frown and turned her attention back to the table of photographs, picking up another family photo. "I read about your parents," she murmured softly, and Bruce braced himself for the offer of condolences that inevitably followed. It didn't matter how many years passed or how many times he heard those words, he never really knew how to respond to them. But Lois surprised him. "You were so young. Do you remember them at all?"

He was a little taken aback at the question. Strangely, nobody had really asked him that before. Most people tiptoed around the subject as much as possible – other than the occasional reporter, who was more interested in what he remembered about the night they died. At first, he didn't really know what to say.

After a long moment, he gave a slow nod of his head. "In some ways, I remember them perfectly." He paused and then continued, choosing his words carefully. "But much of what I know about them came from stories other people told you about them, so I sometimes can't help but wonder if I remember the people they really were."

With her free hand, Lois reached for his hand, linking her fingers in his. "I know what you mean. My mom died when I was little, and there are some things that I'm sure I really remember about her. But sometimes…well, I don't know that reality could ever live up to the fantasies a little girl makes up when she misses her mom."

Bruce tightened his hand around hers and stroked the curve of her palm with his thumb. "What do you remember?" he asked softly.

Lois smiled and looked at some spot over his shoulder, her expression softening as her mind drifted into memory. "I used to check under her bed for monsters every night." A small smile curved the corners of her mouth, and she chuckled, the barest exhalation of breath. "When I was really little, I was afraid of monsters under my bed, but I didn't want anyone to know. My dad…well, he's career military. He was a good dad, but he's not the kind of person to have a lot of patience for that kind of thing.

"But somehow, even though I tried to hide it, my mom found out somehow. She told me she always checked under her bed, even though she knew that no monster would be brave enough to take on the General. But she made a deal with me. She'd check under my bed every night if I'd look under hers. Since any monster would know that the General would come after them if they were found under the bed, she was sure that it would keep them away."

Her gaze sharpened and her eyes met his again. Smiling sheepishly, she finished, "I guess it sounds silly. But back then, it really did make me feel better. Mom and I made a game out of it all. We used to laugh at how the General would scare monsters away – or at least make them do PT. I don't think she ever told my dad about it." She cleared her throat, her cheeks turning pink. "What about you?" she asked, a little louder than necessary. "What do you remember?"

Bruce should have anticipated the question and had a response ready, but he'd been too caught up watching her to think about it. A few memories – not all of them pleasant – came immediately to mind, but he didn't answer right away. She had shared something private with him; he wanted to do the same.

"My mother was a terrible cook," he said slowly, remembering something he hadn't thought about in a long time. "I think she eventually accepted the fact that she'd never be a Michelin Star winning chef, but she was _determined_ to become better at baking."

At the memory of a few of his mother's more notable efforts, Bruce felt his lips quirk, although they never curved into a full-fledged smile. "I don't think she ever got any better, but she kept trying. She used to make these…these horrible pies. Alfred tried to help her, but somehow they just got worse. Too dry, the wrong ingredients, burnt, undercooked. I don't think there's a way to get food wrong that she didn't find."

He chuckled, the sound surprising even himself a little. It grated strangely in a throat unaccustomed to producing the sound. "My father…when she went into the kitchen, he had to know what was going to be coming out. But, every time, he acted like it was delicious, like he had never tasted anything better."

Bruce fell silent, remembering his reaction what back then had seemed to be inexplicable insanity on his father's part. He also remembered his father's explanation for his behavior, when Bruce had once challenged him with the blunt honesty of the young. _"It makes her happy, Bruce. One day, you may be surprised to discover what you'd be willing to do for the woman you love."_ Bruce had scoffed at him with open skepticism, declaring, _"Nuh-uh. Not me!"_

He was momentarily lost in the memory of the past, when the soft brush of lips against his cheek jolted him back to the present. He looked at Lois in surprise. She was still standing so close to him, the fabric of her blouse brushed softly against his shirt. "I -," she began, but her voice trailed off.

His eyes were locked on hers, so he saw when her gaze dropped to his mouth and then flickered up again. Very slowly, he felt the two of them lean closer to each other. Then, moments before their lips met, she sucked in a sharp breath and leaned back again. "Did you really get drunk and burn down your house?" she blurted.

"What?" he asked, momentarily confused.

The muscles in her throat jumped as she swallowed heavily. "Um…your house. The papers said the fire was your fault. That you'd gotten drunk, insulted everyone at your party, and then burned down your house. I – er – I might have read up on you a little today. Anyway, is that true?"

Bruce had never publicly admitted to or denied the allegations about that night, but he'd never had any moral compunction against lying to take the blame for the fire, either. Suddenly, however, he found himself reluctant to respond. That he had been responsible for the fire that had burned down his family home was both true and false, but he found himself strangely reluctant to start their relationship off on a lie. At least any lie that didn't have to do with Batman. Or the story she was investigating. Or interior decorating.

It was somewhat demoralizing how much it seemed he was having to lie to her already. Which, paradoxically, only made him more reluctant to compound his lies. "It didn't happen exactly the way the papers said – which I'm sure is a shock to you, since you're a reporter. But, yes, I was responsible for the fire." At her quizzical look, he added, "There was a while – a long time, actually – that I really didn't care about this place. I think I actually even hated it. It just reminded me too much of the past and things I didn't want to remember. I was so angry, I couldn't move on. But then, after the fire," he paused, frowning as he searched for the right words.

"It wasn't until after the fire that I realized Alfred was right. Not that I'll ever tell him that, because I'd never hear the end of it. Sometimes the past is worth remembering, and there are things in this house worth holding onto."

She cocked her head to the side, a line forming between her brows as she gazed searchingly at him. He wondered what she was looking for. He wondered more whether she found it. "And are you still holding on to your anger?" she asked gently.

He frowned, trying to find the words to answer her question. It wasn't anger that drove him, not anymore. But it was still there, in a way. At any rate, whether it was anger or vengeance or something else entirely wasn't really the point. He understood what she was really asking him, and the answer to that was easy.

Yes, but he didn't want to hold on to it forever. Only he couldn't say those words aloud, and so silence fell between them. Lois didn't press him for an answer, which surprised him. Instead, she just watched him in silence, and he could read the contemplation in her eyes.

A soft cough from the doorway finally broke the spell that had fallen between them. Alfred was standing there, an inscrutable expression on his face as he announced that dinner was ready. Bruce was oddly grateful for the interruption, though under other circumstances, he'd have considered firing Alfred on the spot. In fact, he wondered how long the older man had been standing there and almost wished Alfred had interrupted sooner.

It had been a long time since Bruce had talked about his parents. Their murders had driven him on to become Batman, a living symbol of vengeance. The memory of his father's words, _"Why do we fall?" _drove him on when he didn't know if he had the strength to continue. It had been a long time since he had simply allowed himself to simply enjoy the memory of them as his parents, as the people they had once been.

But now he found himself uncertain, wondering why he'd shared so much with Lois. Wondering even more what she thought about his confessions. Although he was certain his secrets were still safe, she'd come closer to them than was comfortable. He'd come closer to revealing too much than he liked. It was a little unnerving, and he was glad that the spell had been broken.

Stepping back, he held his hand out to Lois and was gratified when she took it. He didn't dare speak for another moment and so they walked to dinner together in silence.

Hours later, Bruce was entertaining more than a passing fantasy of firing Alfred as the butler finished regaling Lois with yet another embarrassing story from Bruce's childhood. "When I asked Master Bruce why he had decided to take his clothes off in the restroom of the restaurant, the only thing he said was that his big toe hurt." Lois howled with laughter while Bruce wondered why Alfred had found it absolutely imperative to tell her that story.

"Actually, that reminds me of another story," Alfred began, but when he caught sight of Bruce's fulminating glare, he rose to his feet and continued smoothly, "but I've been meaning to ask, will you be in Gotham long?"

Lois lifted one shoulder in a shrug and took a sip of the rich after-dinner coffee Alfred had brewed. "I'm not sure," she hedged. She sounded uncomfortable, and Bruce wondered why. Was she reluctant to talk about the ongoing investigation for her story, or was there something about the circumstances that had brought her here from Metropolis that she didn't want to discuss? "I convinced my editor to let me come here to work on a story about the murder of, um, Harvey Dent." Bruce saw her glance at him out of the corner of her eye. "So I'm sure he's going to want me to go back sooner or later, particularly given that I haven't had as much progress on my investigation than I'd have liked. But, still, while I work on that, I figured I might as well stick around to follow up on the recent breakouts from Arkham."

Right. The breakouts. Bruce had almost forgotten. As much as he was enjoying the evening off, there were madmen loose on the streets of his city. Though Bruce wished he could pretend for one evening that he could still have a normal life, he couldn't forget that Gotham still needed the Batman.

Bruce and Alfred exchanged looks, and he saw his butler heave a soft sigh. Lois, apparently missing the exchange, grimaced and glanced at her watch. "Actually, while I hate to say it, it's getting late. I should probably head back to my hotel."

"You could stay here," Bruce teased, though he would have been more than happy to have her take him up on the offer.

Still, he wasn't surprised when she responded by rolling her eyes at him. "Nice try, Wayne, but you're not that charming."

Alfred rose to his feet and interjected smoothly, "Well, I certainly hope we will have the pleasure of your company again soon."

Lois jumped up to give him a hug, and this time, Bruce really _did_ consider firing his butler when she said, "Thank you for the wonderful date, Alfred. We'll have to do it again sometime." Bruce heard the soft sound of her whisper but couldn't make out the words she spoke into the older man's ear. Whatever she said, it made Alfred smile and murmur something soft in response. As if the exchange hadn't happened, she stepped back and addressed the older gentleman. "Mind taking me home?"

"I can drive you," Bruce cut in quickly.

She grinned at him. "Thanks, but I'm Alfred's date for the evening, remember?" Then, apparently deciding to cut him some slack, she bit her lower lip and added softly, her voice warm, "Maybe next time."

"I'm going to hold you to that," he warned her in an undertone.

She snorted. "Yeah, I don't doubt that."

When she was safely on her way, Bruce knew he'd go down to the caves and suit up for a long night on the streets of Gotham. Given the dangerous criminals on the loose, he knew he should hurry. Heaven only knew what was happening in the city's shadows at that very moment. But, still, he lingered, taking the opportunity to walk Lois to the car.

As they headed to the front door, Alfred, ever the shameless matchmaker, murmured some excuse and stepped away for a few moments. On the one hand, Bruce was grateful for the moment alone with Lois. On the other hand, it left the two of them alone for the awkward end-of-the-evening farewell.

Bruce held open the car door for Lois, but she didn't slide inside right away. She put one foot on the car's floorboard and then paused and turned on him. "Tell me something. Who are you really? Are you really that shameless 'party boy' Bruce Wayne, who takes supermodels for a swim in hotel fountains and actresses for a cruise in the Mediterranean?" They hadn't been actresses, and it hadn't been the Mediterranean, but he suspected that would hardly help his case. "Or are you really Bruce Wayne, the entrepreneur they praise in the press as the savior of Gotham?"

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Maybe I'm both," he suggested.

Her eyes narrowed at him. "Maybe. But why do I get the feeling there's more to you than you let on?"

Bruce forced himself to breath normally and not give away his momentary flash of concern. Had he let on more than he'd realized in their earlier conversation? Did she suspect his secret identity? "What did you have in mind?" he asked in a casual, flippant manner.

She huffed in frustration. "I don't know." She was clearly irritated that there was something she didn't know.

If he wasn't certain he'd give himself away by doing so, he'd have breathed a sigh of relief. He could see in her eyes that she hadn't caught on to his secret. Still, it wouldn't be a bad idea to change the subject. "Did you mean what you said earlier, about there being a next time? You know, I'd love to have a chance to take you out your date and not your chaperone."

She blew out a long breath and then smiled, letting the previous subject go. After pursing her lips in thought, she nodded. "Okay, Wayne. One date." She paused, leaned in conspiratorially, and teased, "But for the record? I'm only doing it because Alfred's awesome. I figure anyone he cares about as much as you can't be that bad."

"So I'm only getting a date because of his endorsement?" he asked, eyebrows lifting in mock surprise. It wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind. However, he made her laugh when he agreed, "You know what? I'll take it."


	11. Return of a Familiar Face

**A/N: **Sorry I couldn't get this posted sooner. I also haven't been able to edit this. I've had a horrendous migraine for a couple of days now. I had wanted to make this chapter longer, but I just can't seem to shake this thing and it's hard to look at the computer screen. So please forgive any mistakes or editing errors this time around. I figure I either post this now or I won't be able to get to it for another week, and I'd hate to leave you guys waiting that long!

Also, there's something I want to comment on, before I forget. Readers of my notes will see that I'm not a fan of Chloe from Smallville. I also hate Lana, and I have huge problems with what they did with Clark, particularly in light of the AoS. However, for fans of those characters, I did want to reassure them that, though I may slam them in author's notes, this story will not be used as a vehicle to slam those characters or "put them in their place." I'm not sure if Chloe, Lana, or Clark will make appearances (it's EXCEEDINGLY unlikely Lana will appear; it's fairly likely Clark and/or Chloe will appear in some minor capacity in future). However, I do want to clarify for both those who feel my pain and those who don't share it that if they DO appear, they're not going to be brought in to be slammed. I wouldn't have Lois attack Chloe and call her a bitch, for example, because that just wouldn't be in line with her character on the show. (I hate Chloe from s6/s7 onwards. Lois doesn't share my animosity.)

Thanks to everyone for helping out with the wedding date! I was kicking around an idea that would have necessitated Lois being in Gotham over Halloween, but I don't think I could fit it in with the timeline. So I'll let it pass, but hey...still Thanksgiving and Christmas to theoretically work with! Hmmm...

**Chapter 11**

**Return of a Familiar Face**

Lois adjusted her large sunglasses, pushing them a little higher on her face, and pushed a few rogue locks of hair back under her scarf, where they belonged. Then, satisfied she was as inconspicuous as a person could possibly be, she strode confidently into the police station, rebuilt after the Joker's recent attack.

Lady Luck appeared to be on her side, Lois noted as she walked through the front doors. The police must have conducted some sort of raid – either that, or the streets of Gotham had run rampant with criminals in the last few hours. The waiting area was packed; all visible police officers had their hands full trying to process everyone as quickly as possible. Lois's task of sneaking past the front desk on a mission to break into the Commissioner's office was suddenly a good deal easier than expected.

She darted up several flights of stairs to the floor leading to the administrative offices and walked briskly down the hall, moving quickly as she scanned the names on the offices as she passed. Finally, she found the door with the Commissioner's name emblazoned in bold black font on the glass pane. With one last glance over her shoulder to ensure she wasn't being observed, she rapped smartly on the wood. No answer, so she pushed it open a crack, peeked inside to ensure it was in fact empty, and darted into the room.

The only downside to working without a partner was that there was nobody around to tell her how awesome she was when one of her schemes paid off. So she did it herself. "Well done, Lois," she murmured with a smug smile in self-congratulation, then she darted over to the desk.

One glance, and she could tell that Commissioner Gordon was a man after her own heart. She knew he had to have a method of organization, but it was not likely to be easily cracked by the casual observer. It was almost disappointing, since it wasn't going to make her job any easier. Still, she didn't have a lot of time to indulge in "if onlys" so she turned her attention to the task at hand, instead. She tried to be as careful as possible to maintain the integrity of the individual piles; if Gordon really was anything like her, he'd know at a glance that something had been disturbed, no matter how disorganized his desk appeared to be to a third party.

She had just finished rifling through the piles on the desk and was turning her attention to the desk drawers (locked, of course) when she heard someone pause right outside the door. It sounded like they were about to enter the room, so, cursing, Lois looked around desperately for a place to hide. The only possible hiding spot was the most obvious, she was distressed to find, unless she wanted to jump out the window and hope there was some kind of ledge to catch her.

Lady Luck might have been on her side earlier, but she wasn't going to push Her good graces that far. And since it was highly unlikely she would injury or death if she jumped there wasn't a ledge outside the window, she decided not to risk it. After all, last she checked, men couldn't fly and one could hardly expect Batman to be conveniently nearby, ready to swoop in to save her from every perilous situation.

She could swear she heard the faint sound of the door handle rattle, so, knowing she was out of time, she dove under the desk. It took some effort to stifle her grunt as she tucked her legs underneath her; was she getting old, or did they not make the foot wells under desks as wide as they used to?

The door swung open, and Lois held her breath, sending a silent prayer to anyone that might be listening that the intruder not come around the side of the desk. She heard heavy footsteps approach, and then she heard the soft flutter of paper. She breathed a soft sigh of relief when she heard the stranger turn and the footsteps retreat through the door, though she didn't move immediately upon hearing the latch click, wanting to make sure the coast was clear before she left her hiding place.

She had just shifted, preparing to crawl out of her hiding hole, when another soft sound stopped her in her tracks: the scrape of wood against wood. Lois cursed under her breath, froze, then hunkered even further under the desk. She didn't know where the sound was coming from, but she didn't dare betray her hiding place to look.

Another sound, like a foot falling almost silently to the ground. She strained to listen, barely hearing the footsteps as they approached the desk. Had the stranger returned? Had he detected her presence under the desk and planned to sneak up on her? Her mind worked furiously as she tried to think of anything resembling a reasonable excuse for her to be found under the Commissioner's desk.

Before the perfect – or even halfway plausible – excuse could come to mind, the intruder interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Lane. You can come out from under there now."

She'd recognize that husky rasp anywhere. Rolling her eyes, she scooted out from under the desk far enough to glance at her companion over the edge. Batman stood on the other side of the desk, staring at her with that enigmatic expression that was probably made easier with the cowl.

She smiled. "Oh, hey, Batman! I just dropped my pen. I'm sure it's down here somewhere!" she lied glibly. Okay, so there was no way he was going to buy her excuse, but she'd be damned if she let him think he had her at a disadvantage.

Of course, there wasn't a pen to be seen, but she pretended to find one and stood, slipping her hand into her purse so that he couldn't see it was empty. "So, what are you doing here?" she asked with a smile, as though she'd just bumped into him in the checkout line of a grocery store, instead of him catching her in the middle of a break-in.

"I could ask you the same question," he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I'm breaking, what, one, two laws at most? This is nothing." Which was probably not the best thing to admit to Gotham's costumed vigilante. Lois cleared her throat and decided it would be best to just breeze past that admission. "Anyway, I'm looking into you, actually, since you refuse to give me an interview." She grabbed a paperclip, straightened it, and slipped it into the top lock. If she was going to dig into the Batman in front of the man in question, she might as well be brazen about it.

"Only," she grunted when the paperclip bent but the lock didn't give, "it looks like what Gordon lacks in organization, he makes up for in being conscientious about security." She threw Batman a wry smile. "Well, I guess he could be a bit more conscientious, since I'm here. I won't hold it against him that you're here too, since you've got this whole 'swirling cowled prince of shadows' thing. Which reminds me, you still haven't answered my question. What are you doing here?" Her eyes narrowed. "You and Commissioner Gordon wouldn't still be on good terms, would you? Because I thought you were supposed to be persona non grata around here."

"He'll arrest me if he finds me here," he replied, and Lois noticed he didn't directly address her comment.

The lock finally gave, and Lois let out a soft cry of exultation. However, when she pulled open the drawer, all she found was a half-empty bottle of scotch. Maybe the next drawer down would provide something a bit more interesting. Without missing a beat, she moved on to the next lock.

"He'll arrest you if he catches you here, too," Batman pointed out, but she shrugged.

"I've had bigger problems," she said absently, grimacing as she felt the lock almost give, but her paperclip slipped and she had to start over. "You here about the breakout?"

He was silent for a long moment, but she refused to let it make her nervous, since she was almost sure that's what he intended. Before they could determine who would blink first and break the silence, footsteps raced down the hall. Her interest diverted, Lois put down the paperclip and scooted around the edge of the desk, intending to make her way to the door.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Batman move toward the still-open window. For the briefest of moments, she was torn between her desire to follow up on what was going on in the hall and her desire to find out where the Batman was headed, but in the end, it really wasn't a difficult decision.

"Woah, there!" she blurted, reaching towards her companion with the vague thought that she wanted to stop him somehow. It was without conscious thought that she found her hand wrapped up in his cape, as she presumed it would be called – she hadn't boned up on the proper names for various superhero/vigilante garb.

Whatever it was called, it was heavy black cloth affixed to Batman's neck by some means or other, and her hand was currently firmly grasping a good chunk of it. She actually – heaven help her – gave it a quick tug, to get its wearer's attention.

He stopped in his tracks, so in a sense, Lois achieved her goal. However, the look he gave her was so incredulous, she could see it even around the cowl that obscured two-thirds of his features. She knew she should let go, since she'd seen Batman in action recently enough to have a fairly good mental image of what he could do to her if she didn't. But Lois was stubborn, and she _had_ stopped Batman from leaving.

"Where are you going?" she asked mildly, as if she wasn't still tugging on a vital part of his costume – an action that she didn't doubt would normally cause the Batman to respond in a way that would cost most others the full use of their arms.

Batman looked down at her hand, then back up at her face. She could read his astonishment that she still had hold of his costume, and truth be told, had she thought about it before acting, she doubted even she would have been as brave as she was currently being. A sane person would undoubtedly let go of the cape and stammer some sort of abject apology. Lois, figuring she might as well go for broke, now that she was already committed to this insane course of action, merely tightened her grasp and threw him a thin smile.

Just then, the office door was thrown open and Commissioner Gordon stepped through. He didn't notice them at first, yelling something to someone further down the hall. But when he caught sight of the scene in front of him, he stopped abruptly and stared.

"Um…hey, there, Commissioner," Lois said weakly.

The Commissioner assess the sight in front of him, sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "If I asked what you were doing here, is there any chance I'd get an answer that wouldn't lead to your immediate arrest?" he asked blandly.

For a split second, Lois considered dropping Batman's cape and stepping in front of him, like he needed her to run interference for him. But since she was pretty sure he'd disappear out the window or fade into the shadows or evaporate into a poof of mist if she let him go, she held on tight. Throwing the vigilante a glance, she looked back at Gordon and admitted, "Probably not. But I'd appreciate it if you could arrest me later. Batman and I were in the middle of something."

Gordon's eyebrows quirked up, and he shot Batman a speaking glance. "Well, I didn't mean to interrupt," he replied, his voice sarcastic with a twinge of astonishment at her cheek. Then he turned his attention back to the vigilante. "We picked up the men you left for us. You know, it's getting harder to explain how you keep leaving these tips for me but we haven't caught you yet. Now that the Joker's out, you sure you don't want to rethink things?"

It was really hard for Lois to suppress her gloat; in fact, she didn't entirely succeed at doing so. "I _knew _he wasn't really after you," she hissed, loud enough for Gordon to hear across the room.

Batman ignored her. "This isn't the time," he retorted, and Lois wondered if he was talking about Gordon's suggestion or the conversation he was hinting at.

The Commissioner shrugged but let it drop. "We still haven't heard anything from the Joker. It's unlike him to stay quiet for this long. He's up to something."

As if in response to this remark, the noise in the hallway escalated. Gordon frowned and, as if he heard something in the commotion that they couldn't, he stepped into the hall without a word. Lois started to step forward, intending to give into curiosity and follow, but Batman grabbed her arm. She paused, and before she could decide what to do next, Gordon walked back into the room.

She could tell by the look on his face that something was seriously wrong. "You're going to want to see this," he said, his mouth a grim line. He grabbed a remote and switched on a television set up against the wall near the window.

As the television flickered on, it tuned into what appeared to be a news broadcast playing a black and white feed. Lois recognized the face on the screen immediately, with its uneven, cracking white makeup and the scar that stretched across his cheeks. The Joker.

"Hello, Gotham," he was saying into the camera. Behind him, she could see Mayor Garcia, gagged and tied to a chair. "Miss me?"


	12. The Ties That Bind

**A/N: **I know it's been a long time since the last update, and I'm sorry for the delay. I was in a car accident, and dealing with that took me away from writing for a while. I'll be okay - though I still feel 10 years older than I am, since the accident, as I've been dealing with some post-accident medical issues. (I sympathize with all those readers who commented on Lois's age in the previous chapter, but I'm in my thirties, so I think I have some of you beat!) I also had a couple of readers ask why I had issues with Chloe and/or others, and so I was going to open a discussion on the issue on my livejournal (I'm Jade4813 there, too). But, again, things got delayed due the accident. In my experience, it IS an interesting discussion, and for those who might be interested in having it, I will be posting on that topic - respectfully - when I get a chance. I posted a character study of Lana (or 2/3 of one, at any rate) on my livejournal once, but I've never gotten around to doing the rest. Le sigh! So many ideas, so little time!

It seems there was something else I was going to mention in this author's note, but not it's slipping my mind...Darn.

**Chapter 12**

**The Ties That Bind**

Lois watched the footage on the television in horrified silence. She'd studied the Joker a little, concentrating on the string of events leading to Harvey Dent's death. Even in his photographs, she'd found him unnerving – she assumed due to a combination of his insanity and the grotesque, clown-like face paint he wore. She hadn't had a chance to really see him in action, but that added an entirely new dimension to his disquieting effect. His little ticks, the sporadic licking of his lips, even the way he tilted his head to the side…she didn't know if these were unconscious gestures on his part, or if his entire image was carefully calculated to unnerve others.

Unaware of her thoughts, the Joker moved to the side, re-adjusting the camera angle to better show the bound and gagged man. "I've been out of touch with things, since being away, so I asked the mayor, here, over for some company. Say hello to the people watching at home!"

As the camera moved in on the mayor, Lois watched as he struggled, but he could break free of his ties. His cries were muffled by the gag in his mouth. "Aw, now you're just being rude!" A girl's voice broke in, and someone new came into frame. She was petite, with light colored hair pulled away from her face. The picture wasn't clear enough to get a good idea of what she was wearing, but she had painted her face white, like the Joker. However, in counterpoint to him, her makeup was meticulously applied – less a clown face than a mask, though her lipstick had been applied in such a manner to give the illusion of a permanent frown. If the Joker represented Comedy, then she was Tragedy.

"Doctor Quinzel?" Lois asked softly, shooting Batman a quick look. He didn't reply.

"You shouldn't ignore your viewers like that," the newcomer tauntingly chided her captive. "Here, let me help." In a sudden movement, she brought her hand down on the mayor's arm. Looking closely, Lois could see that the woman was holding something that looked like a tube – probably a metal pipe of some sort, given the sound it made when it connected. It was probably Lois's imagination, telling her she could hear the bones in his arm snap, but his screams under the gag grew more frenetic.

The woman looked at the Joker and shrugged, as if she couldn't understand why Garcia wouldn't cooperate.

"It's okay," Joker replied. "He's probably just waiting for the great Hero of Gotham to come in on his white horse and save him. Is that right?" The camera moved in for a closeup of the captive's face as the woman ripped his gag away. "Tell us how Harvey Dent is going to show up and save you."

Mayor Garcia was panting, short staccato bursts of air as he tried to push past the pain. "Dent is dead," he spat, and Lois could see pain and real hatred in his eyes when he looked up at his tormentor. "Batman killed him. You killed him." It sounded like they were picking up from a previous conversation, and Lois had to wonder what had been said between them before the cameras were turned on. She watched as he turned and said directly into the camera, "He was a true hero to this city, and I – we – will continue to fight for what he believed in!"

"He knows he's going to die." The Commissioner's voice made her start just a little, but he spoke aloud the conclusion she had already come to, herself. Mayor Garcia wasn't speaking to the Joker any longer; he was talking to the people at home, watching. Reminding them of Dent's sacrifice, so they would continue to fight back against men like the Joker.

The Joker laughed, and Lois shuddered at the sound. She saw his hand come from out of frame, but the camera was unsteady, and Lois couldn't tell what was going on for a moment. She heard a few thuds, the soft sound of flesh pounding against flesh. When the Joker brought the camera back to focus on his captive's face, Lois could see the mayor's freshly-split lip. The Joker's companion was pulling his hair back, forcing him to look into the camera, as the Joker said, "I knew Harvey Dent. He was a good friend of mine. You, sir, are no Harvey Dent."

Lois shot a quick look at the Commissioner, trying to read his response to this statement. To anyone else, it would probably just call to mind the old political taunt, but she couldn't help but think there was more to it. As it was, she'd wondered what had happened between the Joker and Harvey Dent in the hospital, before Dent's disappearance. Had Dent been kidnapped, as the papers said, or had he left with the Joker of his own volition?

Was the Joker now declaring – if a bit obliquely – that it had been the latter?

The Joker had continued tormenting the mayor, as Lois lost herself in her thoughts. She turned her attention back to the television in time to watch the Joker move his face closer to Garcia. The camera remained steady; he had apparently passed it off to his companion at some point.

The Joker held up a piece of newsprint, angled away from the camera so Lois couldn't see it clearly. "You put your faith in these heroes," he drawled the word derisively, "begging them to save you, but you're just waiting to tear them down. And now you have the Dent Act, to put people like me away." The Joker laughed and crumpled up the newspaper, shoving it into his captive's mouth hard enough to make the mayor choke. "But all of you so-called 'normal' people…Harvey Dent…you…all those people who are watching from home, just hoping someone will ride in and save you, even as they secretly hope to watch you die – now, that's entertainment! When will you realize that all of you are just like me? You just don't want to admit it, even to yourselves."

Finally, Garcia managed to spit out the piece of newsprint. "We're nothing like you," he wheezed.

"You're exactly like me," Joker replied, moving back. "All it takes is a little push – threaten to take away whatever they care about the most – and the 'good' people of Gotham show their true colors. They'll eat each other alive." The camera jerked a moment; when it grew steady again, the woman moved back into frame.

"We stood up to you before," the mayor said defiantly, his voice trembling slightly in fear as he watched her approach. "We'll do it again."

The blonde moved behind Garcia and bent down to press her cheek against his. She trailed one hand across his chest as she looked up at the camera. "The people with the most to lose are the easiest to break," she murmured into the camera, with a smile that grotesquely twisted her painted lips. "It doesn't take much to see who you really are."

She turned and pressed a kiss against Garcia's kiss. "And who are you, Mister Mayor?" She held up her free hand, showing the camera the little knife she held. The camera jerked again, and Lois couldn't stop herself from looking away as the woman brought her hand down. Though she could keep from watching the footage, she couldn't block the sound of the mayor's screams, mercifully cut off as the station pulled the footage.

The news anchor was visibly shaken, his voice unsteady as he reported, "The rest of the video is too graphic to show our viewers at home. However, we can now report that the mayor – Mayor Anthony Garcia – is the latest of Joker's victims. Our thoughts and prayers go out to his friends and family –" The screen went black as Gordon flipped off the television. He turned to look at the Batman and then rushed out of the room without a word; undoubtedly, he had official duties to perform.

Lois turned towards the Batman as he moved to the window. There had been a flutter of activity throughout the building and on the street outside, in reaction to the news footage. "Wait!" she called, before he could duck outside. When he looked at her over his shoulder, she shifted, a small shake of her shoulders. "The police –" She gestured vaguely with one hand, intending to convey the general pervasiveness of the police presence he was likely to face. "Gordon might be willing to turn a blind eye, but I don't think every officer got the memo not to arrest or shoot you on sight."

"I'll be fine," he replied.

"You'll need a distraction!" she called, stopping him short from leaving again. He paused, glanced at her, and bent, as though to grab something from the floor. "I mean, if you're going to investigate what happened to the Mayor – and I'm betting you are. You'll have a lot of company. The police, I mean. If you don't want to get arrested, you'll need a distraction. I'd be happy to take the Bat Car," she began to babble. "I can drive them off, give you a chance to get away. I'm a very good driver, really – four, maybe five accidents a year. But they're all very minor accidents!"

Before she could dig herself even further into the hole, he straightened and held something out towards her. A dull red light flashed, and she stared at in incomprehension, unable to discern its purpose. A few moments later, she heard a thud against the window and jumped.

Moving forwards, she saw a few bats flutter outside the window, their leather wings hitting against the glass. Then several more joined them, their numbers increasing until a cloud of bats swirled around the building like a black cloud. There were cries of surprise and alarm from the officers on the street, and Lois heard several voices mention the Batman.

"I'll be fine," he rasped, but she snatched the gadget out of his hand before he could pull it away.

"You go," she said, an idea forming. "I'll make sure you get a head start." Pushing past him, she saw the fire escape through the window, and so she ducked outside and grabbed for the ladder.

Batman followed her out onto the fire escape. "You shouldn't do anything rash," he chastised her.

Lois had started to climb the ladder to the roof, trying to ignore the swarm of bats flying around the building, but she paused long enough to throw the Batman a mischievous grin. "Where's the fun in that?"

A couple of hours later, Lois stumbled into her hotel room, one broken shoe in hand, the torn sleeve of her jacket hanging off her shoulder. She was pretty sure she'd managed to buy the Batman the time he needed – at least she thought so, given that she hadn't heard anything about his arrest – but her help had not come without a cost.

She staggered towards the bathroom and winced when she caught sight of her reflection. Her hair looked like…well, it looked like dozens, if not hundreds, of bats had gotten tangled in its strands, which was pretty much what had happened. She sighed and reached for the brush. "He is – ow – so going to – damn it! – owe you an interview for this!" she growled through gritted teeth as she tried to get her hair back into some kind of order.

Deciding that the brush would give out before the tangles did, she dropped it back on the sink and turned to the bedroom. Perhaps after a long, hot bath, she'd try again. As she shrugged out of her ruined jacket, trying not to examine it for any traces of bat poop that she was sure had to be left behind, the tiny device she'd taken off the Batman clattered to the floor. With a grimace, she picked it up and examined it closely.

It had long since lost its power; she'd used it to draw the bats to her, knowing the police would follow, to arrest the vigilante. She'd almost been caught, too, but she'd managed to elude her followers, with the help of her flying nocturnal allies. Once the device lost power and the bats started to scatter, she stayed in hiding for a while until the coast was clear, and then she headed back to her hotel.

Somehow it figured, that Batman would have a bat signal of his own. She scowled and dropped it on the bed. "Wouldn't Bruce Wayne love to see you now? Why couldn't he have been Fluffy Bunny Man? Or Butterfly Man?" She wouldn't have minded a swarm of butterflies flying at her, and bunnies would be less likely to get tangled in her hair.

"Bats scare me." The voice came from behind her, and Lois gasped as she spun around. He was in her doorway, staring at her, and there was something odd about that image. Strange as it was, it seemed more natural to see the Batman crouched in a window than standing prosaically in her doorway. He stepped forward, keeping his chin tucked down so she still couldn't get a clear look at his face in the light of the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. "I wanted to thank you."

Her lips tightened into a near-smile. "I would say 'think nothing of it,' but I'm not that gracious. You can pay me back with an interview." She grabbed her notebook off the bed and held it up. "Nothing shows appreciation like a front page byline."

"I'm not that interesting," he argued, but she waved away his protest.

"You dress like a flying rodent and act as a vigilante for a city that both loves and fears you. Trust me. An interview with you is headline material."

He nodded, one quick jerk of the head, and took the device she held out to him. "I'll think about it," he promised. She wanted to argue, but at the moment, she was tired and sore and would take what she could get.

The Batman turned to go, and Lois followed him to the door. She halfway hoped to see him disappear into a cloud of mist in the hallway, just to keep up the mystery. Instead, he turned to the stairs leading to the roof. "Do you always work alone?" she asked softly, leaning against the doorjamb. "It just – don't you get lonely?"

He paused, and for a moment, she thought he would leave without comment. But then he turned to face her and asked, his voice a low growl, "Do you?"

She thought about her life, back in Metropolis. The people she'd left behind. She thought about the cousin she loved, and though she knew Chloe loved her in return, she wasn't a fool; she was well aware that Chloe had her secrets. There were times that Lois knew that her cousin was lying to her, shutting her out. And Lois never pushed her for answers because she truly believed that, if Chloe kept secrets from her, it was for a good reason.

She also thought about Clark, the cagiest guy she ever knew. She remembered the times she'd tried to call him, since Chloe's wedding. He was much more obvious about shutting her out, but that was somewhat more to be expected. She didn't resent him for having his secrets and not wanting to let her in, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt a little, that he so obviously wanted to keep her at a distance.

Only Oliver, her ex-boyfriend, had urged her to return as soon as possible. She knew that it wasn't that the others didn't care about her – Chloe was undoubtedly preoccupied with caring for Jimmy, who was still struggling with a long and difficult recuperation from his injuries, and Clark had his own matters to attend to. He had been distracted by Lana's return, and though Lois knew she'd since left town – though she'd never really gotten anything close to the full story on that – she had heard he was hard at work at the Daily Planet. She understood he was investigating the recent string of unsolved, brutal murders that had been committed in the city. Both Chloe and Clark had urged her to stay in Gotham, where she would be "safe" from whoever or whatever was terrorizing Metropolis.

Lois understood. Still, she had thought for one brief, mistaken moment, that she'd finally found someone who needed her, and her understanding didn't make it hurt any less, the awareness that nobody really did. It also didn't keep her from feeling alone. "Sometimes," she admitted. "But it doesn't have to be that way. I can help you, you know." A little embarrassed by her offer, she shifted uncomfortably and clarified, "I mean, with this business with the Joker. I can help you, if you want."

"It isn't safe," he argued.

"I'm not a safe kind of person, in case you didn't notice," she shot back. She was going to investigate the Joker anyway. He might as well get something out of it.

He ducked his head, and try though she might, she couldn't see his face. "I'll think about the interview," he murmured after a moment, and then he rushed up the stairs, leaving her behind.

Lois sighed and went back into her room. Locking the door behind her, she switched off the light and collapsed onto her bed, to stare at the shadows on the ceiling. She'd worry about a bath and the rest later. For the moment, she'd try to forget the memory of bat wings, brushing against her in the dark.


	13. One Enchanted Evening

**A/N: **I know I've been gone for a while. I had a hell of an end of the year. After the accident, I developed a mysterious allergy that gradually spread all over my body. For a while, the most romantic thing I could think of to write was, "And then Bruce scratched every inch of Lois's body BECAUSE HE COULD." We still haven't figured out the source, but it seems to be under control at the moment!

I did finally remember the thing I was going to mention on my last A/N but forgot. There has been a LOVELY banner made for this story, and someone suggested I put it up here. I would love to, but I didn't realize you could do that on this site! If I can figure out how, I will certainly do so!

**One Enchanted Evening**

It was late (or early, depending on one's point of view) when Bruce walked up the stairs and knocked on Lois's door. He knew he probably should have called ahead first – he hadn't seen her for several days, and he had no way of knowing whether or not she'd be happy to see him at this point, not to mention at this hour. In his experience, falling off the face of the map without a word tended to make women with whom he was romantically entangled a bit testy. Not that Lois was like any other woman he'd ever known in most respects, but he braced himself for a chilly reception, all the same.

There was no sound on the other side of the door for a long moment after his knock, long enough that he turned to go, convinced she was either asleep or was unwilling to open the door to him. Just as his foot hit the top step, he heard the latch give and the door swing open.

"Bruce?" she asked, her voice a bit thick with sleep. "Is everything okay?"

He spun around to look at her and saw that he had likely been correct, in thinking she had probably been asleep. He indulged in the temptation to let his gaze sweep her body before he spoke. Her hair was mussed, though nowhere near as badly as it had been the last time he'd seen her, when he'd been torn between the desire to thank her for her help or to give her a good hard shake, to see if it could knock some sense into her. Tonight, she was wearing pale pink flannel pajamas with bunnies printed on them, and an accompanying pair of bunny slippers peeked out from under the hem of her pants.

He had to admit that the bunnies came as a bit of a surprise. He might have even teased her about it, if he was any more secure in the reception he was about to receive. Still…bunnies? He resolved to get her a pair of bat-printed ones at some point, though how he'd manage to do so without drawing suspicion to himself was an issue. Perhaps Batman could leave some for her? Or would that be wildly inappropriate? Yeah, that would probably be so far past the line of "appropriate" that it would make his nocturnal activities seem downright respectable by comparison.

She hadn't said anything as he made his silent assessment; she just leaned on the doorframe and stared at him with an expectant look. Feeling suddenly – and uncharacteristically – sheepish, he stuck his hands in his pockets and stepped towards her. A wise man would keep his hands free, to block his face if she went for a slap. But he supposed he probably deserved anything she threw at him. "Sorry. I know it's late. I didn't mean to wake you."

As if suddenly reminded of the time, Lois glanced over her shoulder at her bedside clock and then stifled a yawn.. "Don't worry about it," she drawled. "I usually entertain company around four in the morning."

Her words did nothing to put him at ease, but he didn't think she'd really intended to do so. "Yeah, I probably should have called. Or come by at a more reasonable time. I just…" He'd wanted to see her. He could hardly tell her he was just hanging up his cape and cowl for the night when he was struck with the almost irresistible urge to come by. "I know I haven't been around since our dinner date – I'm sorry, your date with Alfred. I'm probably the last person you want to see right now." Lois turned and rested her back against the doorjamb, crossing her arms over her chest. "Maybe I should have sent my secret weapon instead?"

Lois chuckled and glanced down at her feet. Then, with a quick shake of her head, she looked back up at him again. "Well, don't get me wrong, I'd prefer you don't make a habit of it, and I wish you could have given me a call before you unexpectedly left town. But, while I admit I was a little annoyed at first, I understand." He didn't respond right away, unsure what, exactly, she understood. He was almost certain that any assumption on his part would be more dangerous than doing the tango across thin ice.

Luckily for him, she continued, "Things have been so crazy in Gotham since the Mayor was killed. And with what happened to his family…" Her voice trailed off, and he winced at the memory. He'd been the one to find them, the night Anthony Garcia was murdered. They had shared his fate, and whichever of Joker's men had done the task had enjoyed their work.

He has spent the nights following the broadcast trying to find the Joker and Dr. Quinzel. Though he'd been unsuccessful at finding them, he had managed to find a few of the other escaped convicts, who were now safely behind bars. Though of course he wouldn't rest easily until the Joker was stopped, He also knew that the city would continue to live in fear until that day, as everyone held their breath and waited to see what the Joker would do next.

Naturally, he could hardly explain as much to her, to excuse his abrupt absence.

For a moment, he had allowed himself to get lost in thought, so it took him a second to understand her meaning when she said, "I heard about Steven Fredericks. I'm sorry. Did you…did you know him well?"

And then there was that. Steven Fredericks, longtime Board member at his father's company, had passed away suddenly of a heart attack the night following Garcia's murder. He spent his nights as the Batman, hunting down the Joker, and his days ceding to Lucius's demand that he live up to his obligations as Bruce Wayne.

He ran his hand through his hair and admitted, "I wouldn't say I really knew him well. He used to know my father, a long time ago. I don't think he approved of a lot of decisions I've made." He paused. "I can't say I particularly blame him. But he was a good man."

Lois made a soft sound and dropped her arms. Tilting her head to the side, she considered him gravely for a moment and then blurted, "Since I'm up anyway, you wanna go for a walk? There's a place around the corner that's open all night. They make this double chocolate chunk ice cream, and believe me when I say you haven't tasted anything as good as this. Come on. You can apologize to me by buying me a scoop."

He was beginning to see a pattern of "quid pro quo" with her. Batman owed her an interview, after she helped him escape the cops. And now Bruce owed her an ice cream date. For the first time, he felt like Bruce had one up on his alter ego. "Ice cream? At…four-fifteen in the morning?"

She frowned, as though she didn't understand the question. "Well…yeah! What do you usually eat at this time of night? Come on, Wayne, let's…ah, let me change into something a bit more appropriate, and we'll go." At the last moment, she seemed to realize that she was hardly dressed for a date, and he saw the flush creep across her cheeks.

Lois ducked back into her hotel room and started to shut the door, but then she paused and poked her head into the hall again. "You'll stay here? You're not going to disappear on me while I go change or anything?" she demanded suspiciously.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied honestly, hiding his amusement as she threw him one last suspicious glare and then disappeared into her hotel room once more.

A half hour later, Bruce had to admit that Lois had been right. He didn't think he'd ever had better ice cream. He also had to wonder what kind of woman could eat two scoops of double chocolate chunk ice cream at the crack of dawn, because his system was starting to put up a bit of a protest. He winced as his stomach churned, trying to process his unconventional breakfast.

Lois caught sight of his face and chuckled. "You okay?"

He frowned as his stomach made an unsettling gurgling noise. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "Do you do this often? Because you might have noticed the only other people who ordered ice cream at this time of morning were too young to shave. There's a reason for that. I think my stomach is revolting. I haven't had a breakfast this unhealthy since I was a teenager."

He arched her eyebrows. "I'm surprised Alfred let you do so even then."

"I haven't been under his watchful eye my entire life!" Bruce defended himself. "I was in college once, you know."

"Oh, I know. Princeton. But you and the school parted ways well before graduation. I have to admit, you're a man after my own heart. I had a few disagreements with a few college deans, myself." She turned to throw her napkin into a curbside trash stand and then fell back into step beside him. "Though I've never been declared dead before. So what were you really doing during those seven years?" She grinned unabashedly at him. "Okay, I'll admit it. I read up on you a bit."

Why was he still surprised by her ability to hit him with unexpected blunt questions? "So you had to have read my interviews. You think there's more to the story?" he hedged.

She snorted. "I'm a reporter. I always think there's more to the story. But, come on, you were off traveling the world? Finding yourself? Pull the other one. I haven't known you for very long, but the official story doesn't sound like you."

"You don't think I needed to get away for a while, to come to terms with things after everything that had happened?" he pressed.

She ducked her head. "Okay, maybe," she admitted begrudgingly. Then, throwing her head back, she challenged him, "But I still think there's more to the story. If you tell me to drop it, I will…for now. Still…are you really going to tell me the official story is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

He frowned, waging a fast internal debate. "No," he finally admitted, stopping in his tracks so he could turn to look at her. "But it's not something I'm really ready to talk about. I've never even really talked to Alfred about that time in my life. Not entirely."

She stared searchingly into his face for a long moment, then she gave one quick nod of her head. "Fair enough," she eventually conceded.

Bruce couldn't contain his soft cry of surprise at her response, which seemed so unlike her. "Really? You have a question I'm not ready to answer, and you're okay with it?" He was utterly flabbergasted.

She smirked at him. "Don't think I'll forget about it, just because I'm willing to temporarily let it go now. But you've got some secrets, Wayne. Everyone does. As hard as it can be for me to sometimes admit, I think that when people keep secrets from the people closest to them, it's usually for a good reason." For a second, his heart leapt in his chest at the thought that, someday, she might be okay with finding out that he spent his nights moonlighting as the Batman. Not that he was ready to make that revelation to her at the moment, but it was good to know that he might have the option in the future. Until she added, "And, then again, sometimes their reasons are totally retarded. So there's that."

Or maybe not.

She slung her arm in his and they walked together in silence for another block. At some point, she found an old, partially crushed can on the sidewalk and gave it a good kick, scowling when it didn't hit the post she'd been aiming at. Silence had fallen between them, and though he was comfortable with the lack of conversation, he didn't know if she felt it was awkward.

Tilting his head back, he stared up at the sky; the light of dawn was muted by the fog that hung low over the city. In the distance, he could see the tracks of the elevated train, glinting in the morning light. Giving Lois's hand a soft squeeze, he admitted, "You know I lied the other day, when I said I prefer to think about the future."

"I know," she murmured.

He cocked his head to the side and looked down at his companion. Her head was bowed, so he couldn't see her face, to read her expression. "How do you know?" he challenged her.

She tilted her head back, and he saw her smile. "I hate to tell you this, but you're not exactly the man of mystery you seem to think you are."

He made an exaggerated grimace. "Well, that's a terrifying thought."

She chuckled, then grew suddenly serious. "Have you considered moving away? Going somewhere other than Gotham?"

He frowned, thrown by her unexpected question. "I used to think about it all the time. But – relatively recently, I admit – I've come to realize how much this city means to me. Gotham is my city. I was born here. Gotham meant a lot to my family. My parents. My father almost lost his fortune, trying to make this city a better place to live, and I didn't realize until it was almost to late that he was right. Gotham is worth fighting for." He shot her a quick look. "Why?"

Lois didn't meet his eyes as she lifted one shoulder in a slight, awkward shrug. "No reason."

He wasn't ready to let it go. "You're going back to Metropolis soon, aren't you?"

She shrugged again, the movement fluid this time. "Maybe. Probably. My boss isn't entirely thrilled that I've been out here for so long. I keep telling her that I'm on to some big stories, but she responds by telling me that I work for the _Daily Planet_, not the _Gotham Gazette_. I've held her off a bit longer, but at some point, I'm going to have to go back."

He curved his mouth down into an exaggerated grimace. "You know, I have a plane…" he began thoughtfully. Lois chuckled, but her laughter faded when he added in a more serious vein, "Have you ever thought about working for the _Gazette_? They'd be lucky to have you."

"Oh, no you don't!" she blurted. "I think it's a little too soon for us to go there, don't you? Anyway, isn't that a little too close to thinking about the future for you? I thought you were all about thinking about the past."

"Whereas you live in the present."

"Definitely," she agreed, turning to face him once more. "I mean, who knows what will happen tomorrow? And the past…there's nothing you can do to change it, so I never saw the point in dwelling on it too much."

Bruce gave one quick jerk of his head. He didn't know how to explain to her how the past could leave its imprint on someone, cut them so deep that it blocks out anything else. It wasn't the sorrow from his past that held onto him; it was his anger, his need for justice. But he didn't know how to say any of that, so he stayed silent.

Lois pursed her lips as she stared at him for a moment. Then, without any warning, she slugged him in the shoulder, and although she didn't hit him hard enough to bruise – or even really hurt – she happened to strike a previous injury, and he grunted in surprise at the sharp pain. "What the –?" he muttered.

"I'm proving a point," she said sternly. "Now, you can think about the fact that I may be called back to Metropolis tomorrow, or you can focus on the fact that I was mad at you yesterday. Or you can realize that I'm standing right here. In front of you. Right now. And you haven't kissed me yet."

That was a reasonably good point. Still, he paused before complying. "And punching me was necessary to prove the point?"

She nodded. "Absolutely. I was – mmmf!"

Whatever she was going to say was cut off, as he cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips down to hers. Teasing her went only so far, but he'd been thinking about kissing her for too many days to put it off any longer.

He brushed his lips softly against hers until she relaxed against him, and then he deepened the kiss. She sighed into his mouth as her lips parted under his. When he finally tore his mouth away, it was only to brush a string of kisses against the line of her jaw to the soft curve of her neck under her ear. Bruce smiled against her skin when he felt her shudder.

It was several minutes later that the thought he should stop kissing her even crossed his mind, when he remembered he was on a public street in Gotham City at a time of morning that was usually dangerous to be out (at least when un-cowled). Ducard had told him more than once that he needed to pay more attention to his surroundings, and now, Bruce had to be grateful that no mugger had crept up on the two of them while they were otherwise occupied. He doubted he would notice until it was too late.

And yet, even while to rational part of his brain tried to remind him that he should stop kissing her, it took him at least another minute before he could. Then he rested his forehead against hers and sucked in a deep breath, trying to get a hold of his normally iron-clad willpower. It didn't help when he heard her breathe a soft, "Wow."

When he was finally reasonably certain he could put some distance between the two of them without embarrassing himself, he stepped back. He certainly hoped his body's response wasn't too obvious.

He didn't even begin to know what to say about the kiss. Then he remembered the punch she'd delivered to his arm. Sucking in a deep breath, he cupped her face and tilted her head back so he could meet her eyes. Then he deadpanned, "You know, you have the strangest method of foreplay."

Lois laughed, and he felt the corners of his mouth quirk up in response. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong to never indulge in thinking about the past, as he was pretty sure he'd relive that kiss many times that day. But since that would reveal too much – and he wasn't a man who was accustomed to revealing anything at all – he kept his silence.

As he suspected was usual for her, Lois had the last word. Stretching on her toes, she brushed her lips against his one more time and then murmured, laughter in her voice, "Here's looking at you, kid."


	14. The Fruits of Their Labors

**A/N: **I had REALLY hoped to get this posted on Valentine's Day, but I got distracted by a celebration of my own and didn't get in finished in time. To make up for the tardiness, this one's rather longer than usual. I also wanted to thank everyone who came so passionately to my defense when I got trolled. If it helps put your minds at ease, one detractor's comments wouldn't make me stop writing. (In my line of work, one insult thrown my way is called "a good day.") I was amused when I read the comment, since I thought it was clear the troll hadn't read the story at all. When the review said they bumped into each other by chance "dozens of times" or whatnot, I actually laughed since - with the possible exception of their first meeting, the "by chance" interactions between them numbered...let's see...none.

My boyfriend keeps asking, "Are you ever going to finish your story?" (I think he'd like to have my attention back at some point.) Aw...isn't he cute? (Okay, yes, I will finish the story. When the story tells me it's finished!)

By the way, I mentioned them in my first post, but for those who have joined us later in the game, I strongly encourage you to check out Ferd's Brois videos. They are seriously beyond fantastic.

**Chapter 14**

**The Fruits of the Labors**

Several hours later that day, Bruce wasn't thinking about kissing Lois as much as he was entertaining a fantasy of tying her up and leaving her somewhere where she couldn't get into trouble. It was, he was fairly certain, the only way he'd ever get peace of mind when it came to her.

He had been driving back to the Manor, having visited Lucius to take care of a few more of those duties he found so tedious, when he decided to give Lois a call. She'd answered the phone, but when he'd asked her what she was doing, she'd sounded entirely too innocent as she responded. Then, through the phone, he heard the sound of the train pass nearby. It was probably fortunate that the train had been his father's pet project; that connection insured he would recognize the sound of the train in his sleep.

It took him a moment to calculate her rough location, given the train schedule. The answer almost gave him a heart attack, since she was in one of the worst areas of Gotham. He considered racing home to change into his Batsuit, but he didn't dare take the time. He didn't know what Lois was doing, but, knowing her, it had to be something reckless.

Driving well past the speed of both sanity and legality, he raced across town to her general location and then swerved through the streets, trying to find her car. He couldn't find it, so he pulled out her phone and dialed her number. She didn't answer, causing his stomach to clench into a knot as his stress level skyrocketed.

Scanning the horizon, he drove towards the tallest building in the immediate vicinity, pulled up onto the curb and came to a stop. He almost didn't even bother to turn off the ignition before jumping out. It would be a miracle if his car was still there when he returned, but he didn't care, as long as Lois was safe.

He darted around the corner to the side of the building to the fire escape and used the side of the building as leverage to grab the low-hanging ladder. It took him less than a minute to scramble to the roof, which gave him a good vantage point of the area. He could only hope that he was in the right area and that Lois hadn't ducked inside a building.

Just when he was considering how to regroup and come up with another plan, he saw a woman with a long, dark brown ponytail, dart across the street and duck into an alleyway nearby. He hadn't been able to see her face, but he had no doubt it was Lois.

Bruce took only a second to consider his options. Then he shrugged out of his coat and dropped it at his feet. Once freed of its restrictive cloth, he raced across the roof, jumping across the gap to the next building over. In this fashion, he was able to make is way to the building across the street from the alleyway where he'd seen the brunette disappear. Then he swung onto a ledge lining the building's outer wall, leapt onto a high brick wall in a narrow gap between the buildings, and jumped on top of the dumpster below. When his feet hit the ground, he strode quickly out of the alley and followed Lois across the street.

Hitting the mouth of the alleyway, he slowed his steps and crept forward silently into the darkened recess. Whatever danger Lois was chasing, he preferred to maintain the element of surprise. But as he moved deeper into the corridor, he found nobody but the long haired brunette, who was standing with her hands on her hips as she scanned the buildings on either side of her in patent exasperation.

"Looking for something?" he murmured softly.

Lois gasped and spun around, and he was glad he'd decided to keep his distance when he saw her lash out defensively. When she realized it was him, however, she paused and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she straightened. "Bruce! What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed softly.

"Strangely, I was wondering the same thing," he drawled, ignoring her question.

"I was just –" she began, but whatever lie she was about to concoct broke off when the sound of metal scraping against metal further down the alley interrupted their conversation. She grabbed his arm and pulled him hard against her, shifting deeper into the shadows. In the darkness of the alley, there was a sound of rustling, followed by the loud slam of a door.

Bruce and Lois stood in silence, straining to hear if the stranger was still there. They only relaxed when they were relatively certain they were alone once more. "You shouldn't be here. It isn't safe," she said firmly, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Again, I was thinking the same thing," he replied, his voice calm and unruffled.

She glowered at him, but he simply stared at her until she huffed in irritation, "Look, I got a lead on Victor Zsasz. I think he may be hiding out in one of these buildings, so I came down here to check it out."

Bruce had expected Lois was in this area of town for terrifying reasons, but even still, his jaw almost dropped when he heard her explanation. Victor Zsasz? He was a terrifying psychopath who had once worked as an enforcer for Carmine Falcone, but it was more a relationship of convenience than anything else. The truth was, Zsasz enjoyed hurting people. Falcone had managed to exercise a measure of control over his enforcer, but without that influence, Zsasz's dangerous tendencies only increased. He targeted people, seemingly at random. He had a very distinctive modus operandi, only using knives in his murders, and he carved a line into his skin for every murder he committed. At last count, the reports claimed he had over forty lines carved into his flesh.

"And what do you plan to do? Interview him?" he asked, flabbergasted by her actions. His mind was still struggling to comprehend the sheer scope of her recklessness.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Of course not. I'm going to follow him. I think he may have upgraded employers. I've got reasons to believe he's on the Joker's payroll now…so to speak." A man like Zsasz didn't have to be paid, in order to do what he loved the most.

Bruce was about to press her for more, but the sound of the metal door opening interrupted them again. This time, heavy footsteps immediately followed. They were about to be joined by several others with unknown intentions. "Come on," he breathed, grabbing her arm. "We should go." As Batman, he could probably handle the situation, but he didn't have his suit or his usual gadgets, and he didn't want to risk that Lois would jump feet-first into a dangerous situation and get hurt in the process.

They started to edge out of the alley, but another two figures stepped into its entrance, cutting them off before they could make their escape. Bruce breathed a curse as he tried to pull Lois behind him, using the wall and his body to shield her from harm. But, of course, Lois couldn't make anything easy; she struggled with him, trying to pull him behind her, as though she'd had the same thought.

As they engaged in their mute skirmish, another three men stepped out of the darkness deeper in the alley, and Bruce saw the glint of knives in their hands. "Well, well, well," the man in front said tauntingly. "What do we have here? I thought I heard people talking." He moved closer and then stared intently at Bruce's face. "Hey…don't I know you?"

"Him?" Lois interjected, her voice overly bright. "I'm sure you don't. He's just got one of those faces, I guess!"

"No, I do! You're Bruce Wayne!" A wicked smile crossed the gang leader's face as he pointed his knife in Bruce's direction. As his companions muttered amongst themselves, he made a tisking sound with his tongue. "You know, you've strayed onto the wrong side of the tracks, billionaire."

The gang closed ranks, crowding the couple against the wall as the rest of the members made catcalls and taunted their prey. Bruce quickly calculated his options. He needed to take down the gang quickly, before Lois could throw herself into the fray and get hurt. He knew she wasn't helpless; he'd seen her fight off the inmates at the Asylum. Still, unlike the inmates, the men around them were armed. And regardless of the fact that Lois knew how to take care of herself, that didn't make Bruce any happier about seeing her in danger.

But how was he going to take them down without her catching onto his secret? She wasn't stupid; he had no doubt that, if she saw him in action, she would at least grow suspicious. He wasn't sure he was ready for her to catch on to the fact that the man she was desperate to interview was, in fact, his alter ego.

An idea struck; he just hoped he could pull it off without Lois getting hurt. "Let's just calm down," he said, injecting a note of nervousness into his voice as he raised his hands in a placating gesture and took a step forward. "I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement."

"Bruce!" the woman beside him hissed as she reached for his arm. "What are you doing?" She grabbed for his arm, but he scooted just out of her reach, as if he hadn't noticed. For their part, the members of the gang watched him closely as he started to move, but as he played the role of helpless, affable playboy, he saw them start to relax.

"You want money? I'm sure I can – oof!" Just when the one in front of him turned to his companion to say something snide, Bruce acted. Pretending he had slipped on something, he stumbled forward, bringing his shoulder down low to drive it into the gang member's chest. Out of Lois's line of sight, he brought his fist against the bad guy's wrist, knocking the knife out of his hand. He hoped Lois would think that the other man had dropped it in surprise as he staggered backwards.

Bruce used his forward momentum to shove one of the gang members back deeper into the alleyway, depending on the shadows to hide his movements from Lois's view. He was also acting on the hope that the other members of the gang would come to this one's defense and leave Lois alone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw three of the others rush towards him, and a rush of satisfaction warred with a sigh of relief that Lois was at least in somewhat less danger than she had been before.

"Bruce!" she cried in concern, but he was concentrating on the task in front of him and couldn't look her way. He heard her curse, "Damn it!" Then came the sound of a scuffle, and he had to rely on his faith in Lois, that she could take care of herself, or his distraction would get him – and possibly her – killed.

Cloaked by the shadows, Bruce gave himself over to his training. If he were the type to allow himself a satisfied smile, he would do so now. His prey were surrounding him in the shadows, thinking they had the upper hand. Little did they know that the shadows were his weapon. They hid in the darkness, to prey upon the innocent. Bruce was the darkness.

Of course, there were some disadvantages to being without the Batsuit. For one thing, as Batman, he could use the criminals' fear against them – an advantage he didn't have as Bruce Wayne. For another, he could really use his armor. A tall, lanky gang member with a scar running down one cheek raced forward, just as Bruce was turning from delivering a punch to another's throat. Bruce managed to shift his weight to defend himself, but not fast enough to avoid the blade of the knife, which sliced him along the left side of his ribcage.

He grunted at the sudden stab of pain but didn't let it distract him and, moments later, he incapacitated the last of his attackers. He looked up just in time to see Lois deliver a kick to another one's chest and turn towards him. Before she could make her way further into the alley to see his handiwork, he rushed forward and grabbed her arm.

"Bruce! Are you okay? What happened?" she demanded, falling into step beside him as they raced down the street towards his car. "You're bleeding!"

"Quick! Before they catch up!" he cried, ignoring her question.

As they got closer to the vehicle, she darted towards the driver's seat. "You're injured. I'm driving," she snapped.

He would have argued, but if he wanted to maintain the pretense that his sparring partners were still conscious and capable of pursuit, he didn't dare take the time. Instead, he sighed heavily, tossed her the keys, and jumped into the passenger seat. Truth be told, he was also a little curious to know how she'd handle herself behind the wheel.

Smoke erupted behind the tires, which left a thick trail of rubber behind as she tore into the street like the proverbial bat out of hell. She handled herself well, he had to admit, as she quickly changed gears and wove in and out of traffic, putting distance between them and their fictitious pursuers as quickly as possible.

"Where are you going?" he asked after a few minutes, when she showed no inclination to slow down.

"To the hospital," she bit out through gritted teeth. "You're injured, remember?"

"No!" he cried without thinking, and when she shot him a surprised look out of the corner of her eye – followed immediately by a sharp swerve to the left, to avoid rear-ending the blue Toyota in front of them. "We can't do that," he added in a more reasonable tone of voice as he wracked his brain for a reason why. In reality, he didn't want a doctor to see the numerous bruises he'd attained during his recent nocturnal activities; that might lead to questions he couldn't adequately answer.

His companion made a low, thoughtful hum. "Right. You're injured, so the absolute last place we want to go is the hospital. Makes total sense. Do I take a left at the next light or the one after that, to get to Gotham General?"

"Steven Fredericks just died, remember?" he pressed, as the excuse came to mind. He was watching her profile, so he saw the corner of her eyebrow quirk up, as if to silently ask 'so what?' "If I go to the hospital, it'll be in all the papers tomorrow. You know that as well as I do. If people hear that I was attacked by thugs and could have been killed – that I was injured, in fact – so soon after my company lost a member of the Board of Directors, it could cause a panic. My company's stock could take a serious hit."

"It'll go back up," she snapped.

"And if it doesn't? We're talking about people's jobs, Lois. People who depend on my company. On me."

He really hoped she bought his excuse, since even he felt like it was pretty shaky, no matter that it was true. But he couldn't read her profile as she slammed on the brakes, controlling the car's slide as it skidded to a halt in the middle of the street. Behind her, the line of drivers laid on their horns as they swerved to avoid an accident, but she didn't seem to notice. "You're honestly telling me that you don't want to go to the hospital on the mere possibility that your company's stock might possibly take a hit that could theoretically cause some of your workers their jobs down the line?" she asked incredulously.

"I don't want to take the chance. And, really, it's not that bad; barely more than a scratch," he replied softly.

She narrowed her eyes at him, her gaze searching his face, though he didn't know for what. "I honestly don't know if that's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard, or if it's not sort of endearing…in a completely foolish and a somewhat absurd kind of way."

His gaze was warm as he looked at her hopefully. "Any chance I can suggest the latter?"

She glowered at him. "Don't push your luck, Wayne."

He wasn't sure if she was convinced, but at least she hadn't resumed her trip to the hospital. "If you take me back to the Manor, Alfred can take a look at it. I assure you, if it's serious at all, he'll insist I get medical attention. As I'm sure you know, he can be…very persuasive. But it really isn't that bad."

With a heavy sigh, she glanced down at his injury. Gingerly moving the cut fold of his shirt aside, she looked at the wound for a long moment and then seemed to capitulate. However, to his surprise, rather than turn the car in the direction of the Manor, she drove in the opposite direction. Before he could ask, she explained, "Okay, but I'm taking you to my hotel first. I have a little experience with these kinds of injuries, and I have some things in my travel bag that aren't standard equipment in your run-of-the-mill first aid kits."

Bruce forbore from pointing out that Alfred had far from the run-of-the-mill first aid kit, since that would be hard to explain. Instead, he sat in silence as she drove to the hotel, grateful that, for the moment, he'd managed to protect his secret.

* * *

When they arrived at the hotel, they jogged to her room but paused when they saw her door was ajar. Bruce acted instinctively and before Lois could argue, pushing her behind him as he crept forward cautiously, to peer through the crack into the room. When he didn't see any activity, he nudged the door, letting it swing open so that he could sneak inside.

The room was a disaster; it looked like everything Lois owned had been torn to pieces and lay strewn around in a haphazard fashion. It was fortunate her hotel room was so small there weren't many places someone could hide, but he ducked to ensure nobody hid under the bed nonetheless.

He felt Lois push forward behind him. "Do you see anything missing?" he murmured to her, hoping to distract her as he edged to the side of the room so he could check the bathroom. It, too, was demolished, but he could tell that there was nobody hiding inside. Only then did he start to relax.

Lois was muttering under her breath behind him. He turned just in time to see her pick up a scrap of cloth from the floor. Tilting his head to the side, he guessed it might have been a bra at some point, black and lacy. Now it looked like someone had taken a knife to it; it was cut to shreds – as was, it appeared, every other article of clothing strewn around the room. "Oh, come on! Really?" she griped as she threw Bruce a frustrated glower. "Don't they have any idea how hard it is to find a comfortable bra?"

"It's so hard to find considerate criminals nowadays," he replied dryly, unsure whether he as amused or astonished by her reaction. Most women (most men, too, for that matter) would be in hysterics to find their room ransacked like this. Lois was just annoyed by the inconvenience. But, then again, he didn't really need yet another confirmation that she was an unusual woman.

"We should go," he said abruptly, taking her hand and heading toward the door. "They might come back." Ordinary criminals would be unlikely to return, but there was something about the destruction of the room and its contents that seemed personal. Absolutely nothing – certainly no article of clothing – had remained untouched. He suspected this was the work of no ordinary criminal – it was entirely possible that Lois had drawn the attention of one of the escaped Arkham inmates with the articles she'd been writing.

To her credit, Lois didn't argue the point. However, that wasn't to say she didn't argue. "Wait!" she cried, yanking her hand back and digging around on the floor, looking for something. "Darn it! Where is it?" A few seconds later, and she demanded, "Do you have a dime?" He was a bit taken aback by the abrupt question, but she steamed ahead without waiting for his response. "Oh, what am I saying? You probably don't carry anything smaller than a hundred on you." Amused by her inner monologue (which wasn't so "inner" at present), he rooted around in his pockets until he found a dime. Wordlessly, he held it out to her.

She continued to ramble, oblivious to the object he was holding out to her. "I should have a screwdriver around here somewhere, unless they took it with them. But why would they steal a screw-oh." She glanced up with an abashed grin as she took the dime. "Thanks."

Scrambling onto her bed, she reached towards over her head, towards an air vent high up on the wall. She used the dime on the vent's screws, quickly unscrewing them and letting them fall onto the bed. Then she reached into the open shaft and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers.

Lois turned to face him and explained sheepishly, "Um, I was hiding them." At his curious expression, she added, "From…um…Batman. I kinda…borrowed them? From Arkham Asylum. I didn't want to take the chance that he'd take them before I was finished with them."

It was pretty clever, he had to admit. He had considered sneaking into her hotel room to get the papers, but he'd finally decided he could pursue his investigation without them for the time being. Besides, he would have hated to disappoint her like that.

"Come on! What are you waiting around for? You're injured, remember?" she asked briskly as she strode towards the door, grabbing his arm to drag him along.

He was tempted to make a sarcastic retort, but he had to concentrate his efforts on hiding his slight smile, instead. After all, it wouldn't do to encourage her.

* * *

Once again, Lois refused to let him drive, racing across town to the Manor. Since there was no real emergency, he had to assume she just wanted to see what his car could do. As she made a hairpin turn around a curve, he wondered how she would handle the Batmobile. Then again, it was probably a good idea to never find out. She seemed almost disappointed to arrive at their destination, but then, apparently remembering that he was injured, she jumped out of the car and led him inside.

Alfred greeted them immediately, saw the blood staining Bruce's shirt, and calmly led them into an adjacent room, where he commanded they sit and wait for his return. He came back shortly with a first aid kit, to tend to his ward's wound.

At Alfred's direction, Bruce shrugged out of his ruined shirt and tossed it aside, then sat still as his butler administered to his injury. All the while, he watched Lois with thinly-veiled curiosity. Though she had expressed concern for him before, she'd managed to remain relatively calm and focus on the task at hand. It was only now, only once Bruce's wound was being treated, that she let her emotions get the better of her. He could see her hands shake and hear the raggedness of her breath as she tried to look over Alfred's shoulder, to gauge the seriousness of the cut. She kept shifting her weight from foot to foot – a telltale sign of her anxiety.

"How's it look?" she breathed as Alfred checked the length of the gash, making sure it wasn't deeper than it appeared. "I wanted to take him to the hospital, but he refused to let me. I don't know if it was some kind of macho he-man thing…not that he strikes me as the he-man type, but…" Clearly realizing she was babbling, Lois pressed her lips tightly together, as though she was trying to hold the words in by sheer force of will.

Obviously surprised by the strength of her emotional reaction, Alfred paused in his ministrations and turned to her. Bruce couldn't see his old friend's expression, but then Lois breathed in a shaky breath and admitted softly, "I'm sorry. It's my fault. I was chasing down a story, and Bruce…I didn't mean for him to get hurt."

The older man stood and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's quite all right, Miss Lane. The wound isn't deep at all. I expect Master Bruce will be better in a few days." A shaky smile conveyed her gratitude for his kindness, as well as his words of comfort.

Clearing his throat, Alfred sat once more and began to clean the wound once more. "And then Master Bruce can explain to me how he allowed you to walk into a dangerous situation."

Bruce could clearly hear the chastising tone in Alfred's words, and even as he opened his mouth to protest, he was shocked that Lois didn't beat him to the punch. She seemed like the kind of woman who would usually take umbrage at that sort of statement. Instead, she was throwing Alfred an indulgent smile, as though touched by the sentiment. Clearly, his butler had already managed to gain a special place in her heart, and Bruce had to swallow a groan at the realization. What had been almost a Sisyphean task for Bruce had apparently come much easier to his butler; he didn't know how the wily old man did it.

"'Let' isn't exactly the word," he grumbled. "I'd like to see you try to stop her from doing something she's hell-bent on doing."

"Now, Master Bruce –" Alfred began, but Lois cut him off.

"It's okay, Alfred. He's right; he couldn't have stopped me. But I can take care of myself. I was more concerned about him, actually. I've studied self-defense for years; you know, you're a pretty obvious target, Bruce. It wouldn't be a bad idea for you to take some lessons. You never know when someone will decide to target you because of your money. You don't want to be helpless if they do."

He really wanted to snort in amusement at the thought of being helpless in the face of a common criminal, but he managed to keep a straight face. Turned away from Lois, Alfred's lips twitched in an attempt to hold back his laughter, and the older man covered his reaction with a thoughtful hum. "Hm. You know, I believe you have a point, Miss Lane. I do believe Master Bruce could use some self-defense lessons."

"That's not really –" Bruce began, but nobody was listening to him.

Lois had just warmed to the topic. "Absolutely! He wouldn't even need to learn anything too advanced, I don't think, since he's not likely to intentionally throw himself into dangerous situations like – um – like I've been accused of doing in the past. You know, I could probably teach him a few basic things. I'm sure it would help put your mind at ease."

The two men exchanged a look as Alfred finished putting a bandage on Bruce's wound. Of course, Bruce couldn't explain to Lois that he had been a pupil of the League of Shadows, which meant he was more than capable of taking care of himself. And, of course, Alfred didn't seem inclined to intervene on his behalf. The man was positively Machiavellian when it came to matchmaking, Bruce had come to realize.

Instead, his butler and long-time friend murmured a warm thanks to Lois for her offer, packed up the first aid kit, and then left the room with some indication that he had food in the over than he should attend to. As the door swung shut behind him, Bruce tried to come up with a way to either distract Lois from her purpose or excuse himself from her intended lessons – it would be very difficult for him to hide the training that had become so ingrained upon him that it was almost second nature.

But, as was usual for her, she was barging ahead without waiting to see if he was willingly along for the ride. Taken with the subject, she started to pace as she said, "Of course, we'd probably want to start with easy but efficient ways to incapacitate someone. Do you have a gym here? Because if you do, we could –"

Planning to distract her with the suggestion that they prepare for dinner, he stood and stepped in front of her, blocking her path. But just when he reached for her arm, he saw her steps falter and she sucked in a sharp breath. Her gaze was locked on his chest; had she really just processed the fact that he had removed his shirt?

"Wh-where did you get that?" she breathed, trying to sound nonchalant but not entirely succeeding.

Bruce followed her gaze and saw a dark bruise on his arm – one of many mementos of his nocturnal activities. "Oh, Alfred suggested I take up…polo," he explained, inwardly wincing at the excuse that came to mind. Alfred had once suggested it, which undoubtedly explained why it had been at the forefront of his mind. While he had absolutely no interest in polo, he had to admit that it was a reasonably excuse for all the bruises he tended to acquire. Particularly as he didn't have to pretend to be rusty at riding horseback – it had been a long time since he'd bothered to do so.

Now, of course, he was going to have to read up on the rules of polo. Damn it.

"Polo?" she parroted in disbelief, finally lifting her gaze to his.

"It was either that or cricket, and I had to draw a line somewhere."

The corner of her mouth lifted in a smile, but it didn't last long as she turned her attention to his injuries once more. Reaching towards him, she brushed her fingertips lightly across another bruise on his right side, just above the hipbone. "Does it hurt?" he asked softly, tracing the faint line of a scar on his stomach.

"N-no," he admitted. In all honesty, he was so distracted by her actions that he didn't even remember what they were talking about, but whatever feelings she was causing him at the moment, pain wasn't on the list. At least not the kind of pain she undoubtedly meant.

"Oh," she murmured, scooting around him to continue her inspection. It was as if she felt compelled to note each injury and scar on his torso, but her light touch was driving him slowly insane. When her hand brushed against his side and he felt the warmth of her breath against his neck, he had to grit his teeth to bite back his groan of combined frustration and pleasure.

He tried to be patient, but as she moved around him, even the light brush of her hair against his bare skin was enough to drive him insane. As she scooted around to his front and reached towards his stomach once more, he grabbed her hands before she could make contact. He had just about reached the end of his self-restraint.

Lois swallowed. "Polo looks dangerous. You should be careful," she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

He couldn't give a damn about polo at the best of times, but he certainly didn't now. "Lois," he groaned, and then she was kissing him. He cupped her cheek, the soft silk of her hair teasing his fingertips as her lips parted under his. She pressed her palms against his back, pulling him against her, and he pivoted, carefully maneuvering her around until she was pressed against a table holding decorative knick-knacks.

Her breathing was ragged, and he suspected his was none better. Cupping her thighs, Bruce lifted her until she was perched on the edge of the table. She moaned his name when he pressed against her, her head falling back so he could kiss the long line of her throat. He didn't know if his arm flung out or if it was hers, but he heard several of the objects on the table fall to the ground, some rolling beneath the table and nearby chair.

Her fingers grabbed at his shoulders, and he was reaching for the bottom edge of her light sweater when the loud buzz of the doorbell caught their attention, and both of them froze. "What was that?" she breathed, pushing against his shoulders as she struggled to sit up.

"I don't know," he said grimly, suddenly regretting the fact that he'd made a vow not to kill. In that moment, he could have murdered whoever was at the door, with only the tiniest twinge of regret.

Lois breathed a curse and pushed harder against his chest until he stepped back. Her cheeks were flaming, and she jumped off the table and hastily straightened her clothes.

"Lois, it's okay," he said soothingly, trying to calm his racing heart.

But she appeared almost panicked as she shot a quick look at his face. "Alfred could come in here any second!" she hissed, obviously embarrassed at the thought. "I can't believe we almost – oh, my god."

He was going to say something reassuring, but his attention was caught by the murmur of voices in the foyer. Then the voices approached, and Bruce straightened, stepped in front of Lois to offer her a little more privacy, and tried to look nonchalant as the door swung open.

A tall blonde man strode through, Alfred fast on his heels. "That's okay; I won't take up much of his time," he was saying. "I just wanted to ask him – Lois!" The intruder had turned and caught sight of the brunette standing behind Bruce, still desperately trying to cover the evidence of what the two of them had been doing.

"Ollie!" she cried happily over Bruce's shoulder, and then she darted forward to give him a hug. "What are you doing here?"

Bruce amended his earlier thought. He could quite happily kill Oliver Queen – Lois's ex-boyfriend – in that moment, with not even the slightest twinge of regret. Instead, he gritted his teeth and stepped forward, thrusting his hand out. He knew Lois would have to step aside in order for Oliver to take it. "Oliver Queen," he said as politely and as lacking in murderous intent as he could manage. "It's been a while."

"Bruce Wayne," Oliver replied, shaking his hand after Lois stepped aside.

As they shook, Bruce had to consciously stop himself from squeezing the other man's hand hard enough to grind the bones together. He almost didn't recognize himself – or the intense wave of jealousy that threatened to overwhelm him. It was not the first time he'd felt the swell of jealousy, of course. When he'd seen Rachel with Harvey Dent, he'd felt an almost childish envy – like a little boy whose favorite toy had been given to someone else. Not that Rachel had been a toy to him; she'd been his dearest friend, the only tie (save for Alfred) to the life he could have had, if not for the murder of his parents.

Still, he recognized that his feelings then had been immature and shallow in comparison to the black wave of emotion that swept over him when Lois raced forward to give Oliver "Walking STD" Queen a hug.

Okay, the newly-minted nickname was uncharitable, childish in its own right, and probably beneath him.

He didn't care.

But then Lois stepped back, and he saw the expression on Oliver's face as she slung her arm around Bruce's waist. Oliver's obvious jealousy somehow made Bruce feel better. Not good enough to quite forgive the intrusion. But still better.

"Ollie, what are you doing here?" Lois repeated her earlier question, and Bruce wondered at the slightly suspicious tone to her voice this time around.

"Looking for you," the other man admitted. "I came to Gotham to find you, but I realized you never gave me your address. So I figured I'd see if Bruce could point me in the right direction."

She cocked her head to the side. "But what made you think to look here? The last time we talked, Bruce didn't know who I was. Or, at least, I thought he didn't know who I was."

Ollie ducked his head, hiding his smile. "Ah – I take it you haven't seen today's papers?"

She frowned. "No. Why?"

Oliver coughed, and Alfred stepped forward and held out a paper. "Mister Queen brought this by, sir. He thought you would want to see it." Bruce glanced down and saw a photo, which was unusually grainy but there was no mistaking that someone had caught the kiss the two of them had shared on the street. Given the poor quality of the photo, Bruce guessed it had been taken on a camera phone.

"Are you kidding me?" Lois cried in indignation as she snatched the paper out of Alfred's hands before Bruce could take it. "Do these vultures crawl out of the woodwork or something?"

"An interesting description," Bruce drawled, needling her a bit, "given your choice of profession."

She glowered at him. "I report the news! There's a big difference between what I do and this!"

He opened his mouth to tease her further, but Oliver cut him off. "Better leave it alone, Bruce. She's killed people for less. Well…maimed, at least."

Lois turned to shoot daggers at him. "Very funny," she said darkly, in a voice that promised retribution. "But you still haven't told me why you came to Gotham to find me. You're not checking up on me, are you?"

She crossed her arms over her chest in a challenging manner. Oliver swallowed heavily. Bruce looked between them and cleared his throat. "Ah, you know, I should probably go put on a shirt." Seeing the sudden flush creep up Lois's cheeks, he gestured to his bandage and added, "We had a little accident, and I was just getting patched up. I'll be right back."

He caught Alfred's eye and nodded significantly towards the door, indicating to the older man that he should come along. He waited until the door had been quietly latched behind them, and then he said softly, "I need you to do me a favor."

"I would be happy to stay right here, in case I'm needed, "Alfred interjected, standing entirely too close to the door as he did so.

Bruce was astonished. "Are you actually suggesting I want you to eavesdrop on my girlfriend?" he ribbed the usually entirely proper butler.

The corners of the older man's lips tightened, and he looked affronted at the suggestion. "Of course not, Master Bruce. I was merely suggesting I should stay here in case I'm needed. As the door is quite heavy, I might have to stand rather closer to it than I otherwise might, but I would certainly never eavesdrop."

"Right," Bruce replied, not buying the explanation for a minute. "But, actually, I had something else in mind…"

Bruce took his time changing clothes, wanting to give Lois and Oliver a chance to discuss whatever had brought the other man to town. He still felt the sharp sting of jealousy, but he also recognized that they deserved some time to themselves, to discuss whatever private matters clearly lie between them. Or, given the dangerous edge to Lois's voice right before Bruce left, to give her a chance to maim her visitor in peace.

When he returned to the room, however, the silence that had fallen between them seemed distinctly uncomfortable. "Will Mister Queen be joining us for dinner?" Alfred asked from the doorway.

Lois and Oliver exchanged a look, then the blonde man said affably, "I'd love to, but I'm afraid I can't stay. I have a plane to catch. Apparently." They said their goodbyes, but even after Oliver had gone, Bruce noticed a strange tension in Lois that hadn't been there before. He didn't understand it, but he knew there was no use in pressing her about it. Whatever had happened between Lois and her unexpected visitor, she was obviously disinclined to discuss it.

"Come on," she said, strain evident in her voice. "We have some time before dinner; why don't you show me to the gym and we'll get started on the self-defense lessons?"

He was hardly in the mood, preferring to pick up where they'd left off, but this wasn't about him. She needed a distraction from whatever bad news Oliver had brought, and he was willing to give her whatever she needed. So he led her to the gym and left her just long enough to let Alfred know what was happening.

Since Lois didn't have appropriate clothes to change into and would have to spar in her dark jeans and light black sweater, Bruce didn't bother to change himself. He just took off his shirt – a dress shirt being rather inconvenient attire for sparring – and remained in his slacks.

As promised, she started off slow, explaining "proper form" in great detail and showing him how he didn't have to outweigh his opponent to take a man down. It was as difficult to hide his pre-existing knowledge of martial arts as he had expected, and he was even afraid that he was going too far to the extreme in the opposite direction, being a little too incompetent at first.

Then he realized the advantages that could be had in feigning incompetence in their sparring session – the feel of her body against his as she tried to show him how to take a man down, again and again.

Finally, he'd had enough. In a move that was far more graceful than he was supposed to be capable, he eluded her swift kick, slipped his leg behind hers, and swept her feet out from under her. He followed her down with his body, blocking her from rolling away just long enough to pin her in place.

"How did you -?" she gasped, her eyes widening. Then they narrowed suddenly. "You know self-defense!"

"I may have taken a few lessons," he admitted, vastly understating matters.

She glared up at him; he still had her pinned. "And so you just decided to play with me a little bit?"

His responding smile was small but completely unapologetic. "Well, it's been a while. I 'd forgotten a thing or two."

"And Alfred…?" she pressed, not willing to let the point go. He didn't respond, but she had to have read his mind because her jaw dropped. "That man is a diabolical matchmaker, isn't he? He's…he's…positively Machiavellian!"

Bruce almost laughed at the echo of his own sentiment from earlier in the evening, but he kissed her instead. He would have kept kissing her, but it wasn't the right time to continue what they'd started upstairs. So, with the kind of force of will that he could only exercise because of the training that allowed him to moonlight as Batman, he pulled away from her and dragged her to her feet.

"Come on," he said, his voice strained from the effort he'd had to exert to put distance between them. "Dinner should be ready, and Alfred will be furious if we let it gets cold He won't yell, of course, but when he's angry he gets really…" he paused, considering the appropriate term. "British," he finally finished.

He nodded to the women's locker room, leading directly off the gym. "I don't have anything for you to change into, but there are showers in there, and you should find some robes, as well. When we get back upstairs, I'm sure I can find something that you can wear until we can get you some new clothes."

He headed for the men's locker room, directly across from the door she had just disappeared through, and took a quick shower. His shower was several degrees colder than he usually preferred, but it was necessarily so, if he wanted to be able to avoid embarrassing himself over dinner.

When he jumped out of the shower and pulled on some light workout pants and t-shirt he had stowed away, he walked back into the gym to find Lois waiting for him. She had decided to ignore his advice about the thick robes and was clad in the shirt he had discarded earlier. He swallowed heavily, suspecting that it was the only thing she was wearing.

"Um," he said rather stupidly as he let his eyes take in the sight. "You know…Alfred will be waiting upstairs with dinner. I mentioned he will kill us if it gets cold?" From his lofty conversation, he was sure Lois could tell that all the blood had abandoned his brain.

"I'm sure he'll understand," she said, her voice a husky purr. She grabbed his hand and began to kiss the tip of each finger. Her movement caused the edge of her – well, his – shirt to ride up, showing the curve of her hip. She most certainly wasn't wearing anything else.

He grabbed for her, but she danced backwards, out of his reach. "But you know what? You're probably right. We wouldn't want to miss dinner," she teased.

He growled deep in his throat and stepped forward, reaching out to her again. "We'll eat later."

"So impatient!" she chided with a laugh, scooting backward. "Has anyone told you that have a serious self-control problem? That you have no patience at all?"

"Never," he grunted, and then time, when he reached out for her, she turned and darted out of the room, with him fast on her heels.

He chased her up the stairs and through the house; she managed to stay a few steps ahead of him all the while. Given Lois's state of undress, he was grateful that Alfred had apparently decided to make himself scarce for reasons of his own. While Bruce was sure she was trying to lead him to his bedroom, she got turned around and ended up in one of the unfinished areas of the Manor instead.

Finally he managed to grab hold of the trailing hem of the shirt and give it a swift tug, pulling Lois off her feet. She stumbled back against him, letting out a surprised shriek as she fell, but he caught her before she could slide to the floor. Spinning her around, he debated pushing her against the wall to deliver her richly-deserved reward for the chase, but he scooped her into his arms instead.

Lois let out a short cry of surprise and then threw her head back and laughed. "And just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded on a laugh that turned into a slight shriek when he slipped one hand under the lower hem of her shirt, rubbing his palm against the smooth flesh of her hip. "I thought you wanted dinner!" she teased.

He grinned down at her, a wicked glint in his eye as he headed towards his bedroom. "I'll have Alfred bring up a tray later. For now, I thought I'd show you just how patient I can be." After the torture she'd put him through today, he figured it was time to get a little revenge.


	15. Interludes

**A/N: **Couple of notes this time around! 1) Sorry for the long delay, guys! I promise you I'm not giving up on this story. I think about it every day. Things have just been crazy lately! 2) The first scene is presently included but may have to eventually be cut from the story. I know has been pulling lots of M rated stories lately, and if it comes to cutting the scene or getting pulled, I'll cut the scene. I would really hate for them to pull it! 3) I rewatched TDKR tonight and am still baffled by some of the decisions made. Really, Nolan? Really?

On a more serious note - or notes - I know some of you will probably be wondering what I"m doing with this chapter, since it's probably gone in a slightly different direction than you thought. Don't worry, guys, I'm not pulling a bait and switch on you. Lois will be back where she belongs next chapter. I promise! There were just some loose threads I wanted to wrap up, given where I'd set this in Smallville continuity. There's also a parallel I'm making, here, so there's a point to this little interlude.

Finally, Chloe's in this chapter a bit, and will appear a tiny bit next chapter. I'm really trying to be fair to the character in my writing and not Chloe-bash or have her act out of character. I can't promise perfection, but I'm really doing my best!

Ooh! Ooh! Almost forgot! I went to a Lego store and made myself a Smallville!Lois Lego the other day! I wanted to make a Bruce one, but they had NO "boy" hair available except for one piece that made him look like Harry Potter. Sigh. I did my best with what they had and if I can do so, I'll post a picture of them sometime so you guys can get a kick out of them like I have!

With that...enjoy!

**Chapter 15**

**Interludes**

Bruce kicked the door closed and carried Lois to the bed. In the dim light filtering through the windows, he saw her wary expression as he laid her gently on the pillow and followed her down, bracing his arms on either side of her body.

"You look like you can't decide whether to kiss me or pick a fight," he murmured in the darkness, amused by her expression.

"It's usually a pretty tough call, when it comes to you," she admitted, the edge of her mouth twitching as she tried to fight a smile.

Bruce made a noncommittal sound. "Close your eyes," he directed. Her suspicious glare intensified, but rather that explain, he simply remarked, "Close your eyes…please."

She rolled her eyes at him, but then she did as he asked, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable.

He watched her for a moment, considering his options, until he was reasonably assured she was doing as he'd asked. When he saw her begin to relax, he brushed her hair off her cheek. She sucked in a sharp breath when she felt his soft touch, and her eyes fluttered open. "Keep them closed," he murmured in a voice barely above a whisper, and with a long-suffering sigh, she closed them again.

Bruce watched her bite her lip as she anticipated his next action, but he didn't move right away. When she reached for him, he moved away until she dropped her arms to her sides again. He waited until she shifted anxiously, and then he moved his hand to her leg, brushing his fingers against her knee. Lois gasped, but this time, she didn't open her eyes.

His fingers barely brushed her skin as he traced a path from her knee to her hip, and then he reached for her shirt – or his shirt, rather.

It was surprisingly more challenging than it should have been to undo the buttons one-handed. He swore he usually had an easier time of it, although his hands weren't typically shaking the way they were now. With slow, painstaking movements, he unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall open. He didn't touch her immediately, though he had to fight the urge to do so.

"You know, it's pretty dark in here," Lois pointed out on a ragged breath after a moment, arching her back in an impatient gesture. "We could turn on a light."

"I see pretty well in the dark," he replied, brushing his thumb against the curve of her hip. She let out a little moan, so he traced a pattern along her collarbone.

Lois reached for his shoulders again, but he shifted away as he had before. He was growing tired of this game, so he pressed his palm against the side of her leg, his fingers curving under her knee. He rubbed the soft skin her found there, and she curled her leg into his palm.

Watching her face closely, wishing to catch her every reaction. His hand moved from her knee to her hip, and she moaned on a ragged breath. Wondering if he could get her to make the noise again, he shifted his weight and bent to kiss her hip. She made another soft noise in the back of her throat, so her moved to brush his lips against the soft skin of her inner thigh and her moan grew louder.

Bruce continued his path of exploration, mentally noting every time she reacted to his touch. He rubbed a spot just below her navel, and she twitched. He brushed a kiss along the underside of her breast, and she moaned his name in the dark. When he flicked her nipple with the tip of his tongue, she gasped and arched towards him.

"Bruce, please," she moaned when he pressed his lips against the soft skin of her neck, just below her ear. He felt her shudder against him. "Please."

He had intended to tease her for a while longer. After all he'd promised himself a little revenge. But now that it came down to it, he found his once-enviable patience failing him. He didn't think he could hold off much longer. He wanted to feel her touch.

Shoving off of the bed, Bruce jumped to his feet and ripped off his clothes, nearly tearing them in the process. He heard rustling from the bed and felt something soft hit his chest. He caught it automatically, and when he looked down, he saw that he was holding the white shirt Lois had been wearing moments before. He smiled and tossed it aside.

He fell hard on the bed, Lois pulling him against her. Their lips crushed together as they rolled on the bed, somehow fighting each other and making love to each other at the same time.

Lois twisted, throwing her leg over him, and he dragged her body on top of his. She straddled his hips, her legs pressed tight against his sides, and her hair fell to frame her face as she smiled down at him. She bent and trailed a path of kisses across his chest, and he shivered when he felt her hair tickle his chest.

"Enough of this," he growled, and she shot a quick look at his face, a slight frown creasing her brow.

He wondered what she was thinking, but then she gave a small shake of her head, her brow smoothed, and she grinned. "I thought you were supposed to give me a lesson in patience. Your patience isn't all you claim it to be if I can outlast you. Trust me, nobody's ever accused me of being overly patient before."

He glowered at her. "And are they now?" he challenged, bucking his hips against hers. Her breath caught in her throat with a most gratifying moan of pleasure.

"No," she admitted through gritted teeth. Lifting off of him, she smoothed her palms down his bare chest, across the soft skin of his stomach, and lower. Then she cupped him in her hand, running her thumb along his shaft, and he let out a guttural moan, pressing himself against her hand. "Lois," he growled, his hands tightening on her hips.

She laughed at him. He couldn't believe she had the audacity to laugh at that moment. But then she lowered herself onto him, and when he felt himself slide into her, he swore he would forgive her anything. She was slick and warm, and when her muscles tightened around him, it was even better than he'd imagined. He'd had more than a few dreams about her since the two had met, but this was better than even his most erotic fantasy.

She was still smiling when she moved slowly against him, teasing him with her body, but he'd had enough of games. He rolled, shifting her beneath him, and pressed himself into her. She moaned, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close as she arched into him, and he thrust deeply into her again.

Lois kissed him, spread her legs wider, hooking her ankles on his calves, and tried to set the pace. He laughed against her mouth as first he fought her for control, and then he gave in. In his training to become Batman, Bruce had developed an almost superhuman capacity for self-control. But even if he told her as much right now, with his body shuddering with need, he doubted Lois – or anyone, for that matter – would believe it.

What had she done to him? At times, he barely recognized himself anymore. Was this what it felt like, to be an ordinary man? He'd never imagined in his wildest dreams that he would feel this way. It was almost terrifying.

Wanting to push away these thoughts, he let go of any vestige of willpower and thrust deep inside her, her body's movements matching his. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, his lips captured hers as she shuddered around him and he swallowed her cry. Then, with one more deep thrust, he held her so tight to him that his arms shook and poured himself into her.

Panting heavily, Bruce shifted his weight off of Lois and tucked her tight against his body, his arms wrapping protectively around her. Her breathing slowed and grew even, and he knew she'd drifted off to sleep. Then, for the first time in more nights than Bruce could remember, he put aside thoughts of the Bat, his responsibilities to Gotham, his search for justice, his need for vengeance. Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to follow Lois into oblivion.

* * *

Consciousness came slowly to Lois. As she fought off to stay in that wonderful zone between being sleep and wakefulness, she reached out a hand to Bruce's side of the bed. The sheets were cold, and she frowned in her sleep as she tried to reconcile what that meant.

She let out a small moan, her eyes fluttered open, and she gave up the battle for sleep. Bruce's side of the bed was empty, so she lifted her head and glanced around the room. There was no sign of him, but at just that moment, the door swung open and Alfred stepped inside.

With a small squeak of dismay, Lois dove under the blankets. She really should be above all this. She was a strong, mature, independent woman. She didn't need to be hiding, cowering under the covers from Bruce's butler like she was a teenager again and the General had just caught her making out behind the barracks.

Except she was naked, and she would sooner streak through the Daily Planet at high noon than face the fact that Alfred was even cognizant of her state of undress. It didn't matter that this position made no sense, since the older man was hardly innocent in the ways of the world and what went on between a man and a woman behind closed doors. But she'd still rather roll around in a nest of fire ants, her body slathered completely in honey, than have to openly acknowledge the reality that she'd had sex with Bruce last night and Alfred couldn't be more aware of that if she held up a flashing neon sign announcing the fact.

Also, she was still naked, and the list of things she would rather do than risk Alfred seeing her in a state of undress was quite possibly endless. Hiding under the covers, she had plenty of time to contemplate them all; they were getting increasingly outrageous with each passing second. She had to do something about this.

Lifting the edge of the sheet, she peered around in an effort to find something with which to cover herself (on the off chance Alfred was endowed with some sort of x-ray vision that could see through blankets but was thwarted by the thin fabric of a cotton shirt). There was nothing even remotely within reach; Bruce's shirt was all the way across the room.

Lois clamped her lips together and huddled even further under the blankets. Maybe the dapper butler wouldn't realize she was there. Or he would realize she was there and would assume she was fully dressed.

While she lay there, doing her best impersonation of a lump in the blanket, she heard a soft noise, like something being placed on a wood table. There was a slight rustling, and then she didn't hear anything until the scrape of metal betrayed Alfred's actions. He was pulling open the curtains to let more light into the room.

Lifting the edge of the sheet again, she watched him at the window. He seemed to be taking a great deal longer than it should take just to open some curtains. When she raised the sheet a little more, she saw a flash of white out of the corner of her eye. Craning her neck, she saw that Alfred had placed Bruce's shirt on top of the covers, well within her reach. Now he seemed to be dawdling at the window, to give her sufficient time to dress.

She had two options: she could either die of mortification on the spot, or she could take advantage of his assistance. Snatching up the shirt, she dragged it under the blanket and wrestled it on, hindered by the confined space and the sheets tangled around her.

When she was as presentable as possible, under the circumstances, she threw off the blankets and sat up, brushing her hair off her face with one hand and tucking the covers around her hips with the other. After a moment, Alfred turned back to face her, and she threw him a bland smile, as if she hadn't been naked and cowering under the sheets just a few seconds before.

"Good morning," he greeted her smoothly, as though there had been nothing amiss about her behavior just a few moments before. She was struck by his appearance, dapper as always. She wondered if he jumped out of bed in the morning in full attire, his suit pressed and his shoes shined. Then again, it was impossible to imagine him asleep, or ill, or struck by any other human frailty that would infringe upon his ability to be at the right place at just the right time.

Ignorant of her thoughts, he stepped forward, picked up a tray he'd placed on a nearby table, and brought it to her on the bed. In one smooth motion, he placed it across her lap on the bed and lifted the large silver dome covering the food to keep it warm.

Lois's mouth began to water even as her jaw dropped in astonishment. Alfred had really outdone himself, this time. Pancakes topped with banana slices and powdered sugar, bacon, eggs Benedict, toast, tomato slices, and sausage almost overflowed the plate. Also on the tray were a cup of fresh fruit, a cup of black coffee, and a glass of orange juice. "Um…wow," she breathed.

"I thought you might be hungry," he explained.

Lifting her eyebrows, she asked, "And do you think I've been training to play defensive tackle for the Metropolis Ravens in my spare time?" It was the only explanation she could think of to explain the amount of food he'd provided.

With a pointed look, Alfred elaborated, "You missed dinner last night."

Her cheeks flushed crimson, and she threw him a slightly sheepish smile, more than willing not to directly address the reason she'd missed the meal. He was looking at her with a slight smile curving the edges of his lips, even as his gaze held a hint of mild reproach. Only Alfred could convey in a single look equal parts pleasure at the status of Bruce's love life and admonishment that the pair had neglected their dinner. Since there was no way she could respond to that without openly admitting to the very activities she was desperately trying to avoid directly addressing, she quickly scooped a bite of pancake onto her fork and shoved it into her mouth, silently conceding Alfred's point. He watched for a moment, as though making sure she intended to atone for last night's oversight by eating a proper breakfast. When she dutifully swallowed a bite and then popped a fresh strawberry into her mouth, he gave her a quick nod of approval.

"So, um, where is Bruce?" she asked, after eating a few more bites in order to fully mollify the older man. She tried to keep her voice light, so that he wouldn't read too much into the question, even as she tried not to think too hard about the implications of waking up to find him gone.

The butler had turned to tidy up, picking up the discarded clothing and straightening up the room without comment. However, at her question, he turned with a slight frown. "He asked me to convey his apologies. He was unexpectedly called into work this morning."

"Oh," she murmured, mulling over that statement. It was a reasonable and plausible excuse. It was also the kind of excuse that might preface a brush-off. She didn't want to think Bruce might have such an intention, although she was hardly naïve about his past. She had looked into him enough to be well aware of his romantic history; she knew he had been something of a ladies' man. Heck, he'd been a poster boy for heartbreaking billionaire playboys the world over.

Of course, she had hoped this wasn't just the usual fling for him. But, given her romantic history, she could hardly be blamed if she was a bit skittish about trusting her heart in such matters – or her faith that she'd find the love she was looking for one day.

"I have no doubt that he would have preferred to remain here, if he'd had any choice in the matter," Alfred added. Lois searched his face for artifice, but his sentiment seemed genuine. Her mind struggled with her heart for a moment, but then she gave him a soft nod and relaxed against the pillows. Skeptical by nature, she would try to put her rational doubts aside and take a chance with her heart.

"Oh, he left something for you," he added as if in afterthought as he walked towards the door. When he stepped into the hallway, Lois put her breakfast tray aside and straightened, leaning forward eagerly. She couldn't help but be curious to know what Bruce had left for her, when he'd left in the wee small hours of the morning. Her curiosity was hardly allayed when he came back into the room with a large duffel bag, which he placed on the bed next to her.

"What in the –?" she began, unzipping the bag quickly and peering inside. It was stuffed to capacity with clothes and a few other necessities.

"Master Bruce explained that the things in your hotel room were destroyed. He thought you might need a few things." He shot a glare of intense distaste at the duffel bag. "Of course, I would have preferred the clothes were hung properly…"

The pain he was visibly experiencing over the thought of wrinkled garments was lost on her. She was too busy rifling through the contents of the bag, touched by the thoughtfulness of both Bruce and Alfred (she refused to believe that Alfred hadn't had some say in the contents of the bag, though she hoped like hell he hadn't been the one to pick out the bras and underwear). She was also more than a little chagrined. She seriously doubted anything in the bag had come from the local Wal-Mart; she was willing to bet the contents of the bag cost more than her weekly paycheck. She couldn't take advantage of Bruce's generosity like this.

"Oh, Alfred," she breathed, keeping her head bowed. "I don't think I can accept this. It's too much."

"I thought you might say that," he admitted.

She finally met his eyes. "And?"

"We'd be insulted if you turned it down." After a short pause, he added, "You need more than one outfit if you plan to stay in Gotham, Miss Lane."

He had a point, but she winced at his comment about Gotham, remembering her conversation with Ollie the day before. "About that…" she mumbled in a voice barely above a whisper, her words drowned out by the sound of the zipper as she closed the bag.

Alfred had to have had ears like a bat, because he went very still at her words. "Yes?"

She grimaced and then sighed. "Have you ever had to choose between doing what you want to do and what you know you should do?" she asked softly.

He paused. "I…have some experience with that, yes."

"I suppose it makes me a terrible person that I've even struggled with the question," she remarked with a wry twist of her lips as she met the older man's eyes.

"Not terrible," he corrected her gently. "Just human." He paused, and then asked, his voice soft, "I take it you have to return to Metropolis?"

She sighed. "Yeah. I mean, I knew I'd have to go back at some point, of course. I just kept putting off the idea until yesterday."

"Mister Queen came with bad news?" he prodded gently.

"It's not that, it's just…well, I have a job in Metropolis, and I'm pretty sure my boss is going to fire me if I don't get back to it at some point. She hasn't been entirely convinced that I should be spending so much time on the story about Harvey Dent's murder, and even the Joker's escape will hold her back for only so long. I guess my cousin, Chloe, has been under a lot of stress lately. She's been going through a rough time, and, not that she'd ever tell me if she thought it would stop me from staying here, but I'm sure she could use some help." There was also the issue of the Red-Blue Blur, and what Oliver had told her about the monster, but she couldn't tell Alfred that.

He looked unhappy, though, so she added, "But I'm sure I won't be gone long!" In truth, she was sure of no such thing. Who knew when Tess would decide there was another story worth investigating in Gotham? Lois loved her job; she couldn't just walk away from it. And even if her career wasn't an issue, she couldn't put a timeline on helping Chloe out, any more than she could leave her beloved cousin until she knew the younger girl was going to be okay. And she had to contact the Red-Blue Blur about the monster that terrorized Metropolis – the beast that had almost eviscerated Chloe's husband, Jimmy, at their wedding.

She could see that her companion wanted to argue, but he simply smoothed the covers. "Well, I'm sure you know you'll be missed," he told her after a moment. Then he opened his mouth to say something else, but he seemed to change his mind. Instead, he cleared his throat and grabbed the breakfast tray. "I'll let you get dressed. If you leave the bag on the bed when you're finished, I'll make sure your clothes are pressed and put away properly."

"Thanks, Alfred," she replied sincerely, waiting until he'd left the room to jump out of bed. She wanted to shower and dress before Bruce's return, which she hoped would be soon.

Lois was in the shower, her head tilted back under the warm spray, when she heard the soft sound of the glass door to the shower being pulled open. A warm body moved behind her, and she felt warm lips press against the side of her neck. "I came home just in time," Bruce remarked, his voice husky.

She smiled and turned, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I was just about to get out," she murmured in feigned protest. Then she bit her lip and asked, "Alfred told you I have to go back to Metropolis?"

He made a soft non-committal sound and reached for the tap, turning up the hot water to keep the water from getting too cold. "Not yet." Then he tilted her head back and kissed her, running his hands down the slick skin of her back.

She chuckled and shifted her weight so that her back was to the sturdy glass wall of the shower. Then she pulled him against her, lifting her leg to sling it around his thigh. "Not yet," she agreed.

* * *

Several hours later, Lois hummed to herself when she pulled up in front of the Talon. Of course, she wished she hadn't had to leave Gotham and Bruce. When the time came, it hadn't been easy to walk away.

_Bruce had been quiet as he walked her to the car, his expression inscrutable. Lois wished she could read his thoughts. "I wish I didn't have to go," she admitted, stopping by the driver's side door._

_"I understand why you have to go," he replied, though he didn't sound entirely pleased with the prospect. Lois had told him a little about her concerns for Chloe, after everything the younger girl had been through. She hadn't told him anything Ollie had told her about the monster in Metropolis, or the Red-Blue Blur._

_She wanted to say something about coming back, but she didn't want to presume more than he intended to convey. Instead, she shifted her weight and bit her lower lip, trying to think of something to say that would leave open the option of returning while still keeping her tone light and nonchalant, as though her heart wouldn't depend upon his response to the suggestion._

_Before she could stumble across the perfect 'I care but I really don't give a damn' remark, Bruce took the decision out of her hands. He grabbed her and pulled her in for a kiss. "I have some things I need to do here, or I'd offer to go with you now. But if you're not back in two weeks, I'm going to do whatever it takes to convince you to come back."_

_She couldn't tell if he was serious, but either way, she was grateful. In one remark, he'd managed to bring back the semi-serious competition that had marked their courtship – or perhaps she should say "foreplay" – thus far._

_Her eyebrows shot up. "That's a pretty confident statement," she pointed out with a smirk. "And what makes you think you'd succeed?"_

_ "I have Alfred," he pointed out, without missing a beat._

_"That's cheating!" she retorted. "You know, one of these days, I'm going to grow immune to your secret weapon, and then where will you be?" He simply threw her a level look. "Okay, fine, I won't ever grow immune to Alfred. But that's still cheating," she muttered churlishly. Crossing her arms over her chest, she challenged, "Anyway, what else have you got for me? Because I'm pretty sure Alfred's on my side, so I'm betting if you gave me enough time, I could convince him to ditch you and come work for me."_

_He looked like he wanted to argue, but then he shot a look to Alfred, standing just outside of earshot, and sighed and offered instead, "I have your clothes here."_

_She snorted. "They aren't my clothes. They're the clothes you bought for me. Which begs the question, how did you know what size I wear?" His eyes drifted significantly down her body and, reminded of the last night's activities, she flushed. "I mean before the…before we…before last night!" she snapped._

_The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. "I'm observant," he explained simply. _

_Crossing her arms over her chest, she retorted, "And I'm stubborn." At the glint in his eye, she grinned, but she sobered quickly. "All kidding aside, Bruce, you know…I mean, look, I know I'm the most amazing girl you're ever going to meet. But I'm also not naïve. I have no illusions that your reputation as billionaire playboy was completely invented by the tabloids." Her eyes narrowed as she tried to read his expression, but his features were inscrutable. _

_She charged ahead, "Look, all I'm saying is…my romantic history could qualify for FEMA, but if you want to see where this goes, then I'm willing to roll the dice and take my chances. But you should know that if you don't want it to be that, that's okay. I mean, I'll understand. These last few days with you have been amazing, and it can just stay that way – just…an amazing romance that happened once upon a time, when I was in Gotham for a while. You know?"_

_When she rambled to a stop, he mused, "You seem to have forgotten a few things. I don't scare easily, I don't fight fair, and most importantly," he paused and ran a lock of hair between his fingers, "You'd be surprised how determined I can be when I've found something worth fighting for."_

_Surprised by his words, Lois swallowed heavily. She didn't know how to respond to that. He was implying something she wasn't sure she was ready to face, just yet. Bruce was one hell of a temptation, but there was a soft voice that warned her to take it slow, be a little cautious. She normally jumped in with two feet, not even bothering to check the water level first, and her heart took the punishment for her impetuousness._

_As though sensing her sudden uncertainty, he smiled and teased, "Or maybe I meant 'fighting with.' I always have confused those two."_

_Her nervousness evaporated as if it had never been, and Lois laughed. "You just like fighting with a girl who can hold her own, for a change."_

_"Maybe," he admitted as Lois leaned against the side of the car and pulled him towards her. "But I meant what I said. If you're not back in two weeks, I'm coming to Metropolis."_

_"You won't win that fight," she warned softly, brushing her lips against his._

_His head nodded almost imperceptibly. "We'll see," he murmured before deepening the kiss, his arm slipping behind her back to hold her tight against his body._

_Between kisses, she challenged with a laugh, "Want to bet?" _

_All may be fair in love and war, Lois surmised, swallowing her laughter as Bruce deepened the kiss (possibly in an attempt to silence her), but she was willing to bet that only the two of them could manage to do both at the same time._

Pushing the memory of Bruce away, Lois tried to ignore her stab of longing, concentrating instead on the task at hand. She was looking forward to seeing her cousin. As she hopped out of the car, her lips twisted into a wry smile. One advantage to having all of her things destroyed was that it meant she didn't have to lug a heavy suitcase upstairs to the second level apartment.

She jogged up the steps and let herself into her apartment. One quick glance around confirmed she was alone, which gave her a sharp sting of disappointment. She'd been looking forward to seeing her cousin. But a pile of mail on the counter caught her attention, and she began to rifle through it, tossing aside the junk mail and shoving the bills in her purse. Of course, Chloe would offer to help out with them, but Lois didn't mind paying, particularly since she had a job that would allow her to do so. Chloe had faced some difficulty finding a direction after losing her job at the Planet, and Lois was concerned that she had more difficulty making ends meet than she let on. She was just putting the last of the bills in her purse, to review later, when the front door opened and Chloe stepped inside.

One glance at the petite blonde's face, and Lois realized that Oliver had been right to be concerned. The normally bright features were drawn; there was tightness around her eyes that hadn't been there before. She appeared pale and tired. But when she saw Lois standing by the counter, she smiled. "Lois! Oh, my god, I didn't know you were coming back today!" The two women rushed forward to exchange a hug.

"I didn't know I was coming back today, myself," Lois admitted. "But Tess is on the warpath, and I was afraid she'd fire me for real if I didn't at least appear to occasionally respect the fact that she's technically my boss." This was not the first time Lois's job at the Daily Planet had been threatened, but if she kept pushing her luck, sooner or later someone would fire her and mean it.

"It's so good to see you. How long are you going to be in town? You'll have to tell me all about Gotham's nocturnal superhero…and a certain billionaire you were photographed kissing." Chloe threw her a cheeky grin, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "And, before you think you're off the hook, I also want to hear how your investigations have been coming along. Could you at least pretend like you're being careful?"

Lois sketched an X over her heart. "Cross my heart," she said solemnly. If the Batman were present, he'd probably argue the point, but in Lois's mind, she had been careful – at least as much as usual. She practically hopped onto the sofa. "And you have plenty of time to hear all my stories, Chlo, because I'll be here for a while." She was eager to get back to Gotham as soon as possible, but she didn't want to tell her cousin that, for fear that the younger girl would feel guilty that Lois had returned in part for her to begin with.

Unexpectedly, a shadow crossed Chloe's face at this sentiment. "Oh…um…you're staying here?" she asked, as if thrown by the thought.

"Well, this is my apartment!" Lois joked.

Chloe's eyes darted guiltily towards the door. "I know that. And of course you know I'm thrilled to have you back. It's just…well, you know, Jimmy and I have gone through a lot since our wedding. His recovery's been difficult, and I thought…He's going to be home any minute, and I thought, well, if we could spend some time alone, just the two of us…" Her voice trailed off.

Lois could have smacked herself. Of course Chloe would want some time alone with her new husband. It couldn't be an ideal situation for newlyweds to have someone else living under their roof under the best of circumstances, and Lois had planned to move out after the wedding. But then Jimmy had been hospitalized, Lois had decided to go to Gotham to investigate a story, and she'd just never gotten around to looking for a new place to live. Still, there was no excuse for not having taken care of it sooner. After everything the Olsons had been through lately, Lois was an idiot for not realizing sooner that they'd want some time to themselves.

"Oh, my god, of course!" she blurted, jumping to her feet as though someone had put a tack on the sofa cushion. "You know, I was just joking about staying here anyway. You know me and my quirky sense of humor! I just came by to get a few things because all my stuff was, um…" Now was not the time to admit that someone had broken into her hotel room and cut up all of her things. It would only cause Chloe to worry and insist she stay, and Lois wanted to allow her privacy with her new husband. "Well, I just need to get a few things."

"You don't have to rush off!" Chloe protested, though Lois noticed that she had looked a little relieved when Lois mentioned leaving. Her gaze darted towards the door again. "If you don't have a place to stay, I'm sure we can –"

"No, no, it's okay," the older girl babbled, cutting her off as she raced to the closet and started throwing things into a small suitcase. She was pretty sure it was her cousin's, but she'd return it when she was done with it. She knew Alfred would be horrified by her packing technique, which consisted of throwing things haphazardly into the suitcase and praying she'd grabbed everything she would need in the immediate future. "I actually already rented a hotel room in, um, Metropolis," she lied. "Close to the Daily Planet. You know what a pain the commute is; I've been thinking of getting a place near work anyway. I've been meaning to look at some apartments up there anyway, so your wedding just gave me a good excuse!"

Her bag packed with some essentials, she darted to the door. In part, she was trying to make herself scarce in consideration for her cousin's privacy, but she was also hoping to get out of there before Jimmy's return. If they had a romantic evening planned, Lois did not want any part of it. She'd stumbled across their pink fuzzy handcuffs before, and she didn't want to risk having a front row seat to seeing them in use.

"You don't have to go right now!" Chloe interjected again, and though she sounded sincere, Lois's steps didn't falter.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Chloe," Lois reassured her as she dragged the suitcase behind her. She turned to give her cousin a hug with her free arm. "I really should get up to Metropolis before it gets dark anyway; I don't want them to give away my room. But you and Jimmy, uh –" she waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the bedroom then, horrified, shoved it into her pocket. She wasn't a prude about sex by any means, but they lived in close quarters. When Chloe and Jimmy had grown serious about each other, Lois had volunteered to give her bedroom over to her cousin and had offered to sleep on the couch, instead. After all, she'd explained, she was in and out at all hours, investigating various stories, and it made more sense for her to take the couch, so she wouldn't wake Chloe when she left.

Chloe had eventually relented, and she and Jimmy had taken the bedroom. And while Lois knew what went on between a couple in a healthy romantic relationship, the two women making a tacit agreement not to discuss what may or may not have been going on behind closed doors. "Give me a call sometime when you're free, and I'll tell you all about my trip, okay?" she concluded lamely, leaning in to give her cousin a kiss.

The two girls exchanged their goodbyes, and then Lois darted out the door. She was in her car before she stopped to consider where she was going. She'd been lying about having a hotel room, of course, but the reality was that she doubted she even had the money for a room at the moment. She'd exhausted her funds in Gotham and wasn't due to get another paycheck for at least a few days.

She could go back to Kent Farm, she supposed. For all of his faults, Clark wasn't the kind of man who would ever turn away a friend in need. But even with that knowledge, she couldn't get herself to turn the car in that direction. Things had been…odd between herself and Clark since Chloe's wedding. She couldn't forget the dance he hadn't finished, the phone calls he hadn't made, or the coffee date he hadn't kept. She'd decided to put the past behind her when she was in Gotham, and the last thing her resolve on that subject needed was for her past to rear its ugly head and confuse her, just when she was getting her love life back on track.

The only other obvious solution – Ollie – came to mind, but Lois didn't even need to consider the prospect before ruling it out. Lois may have made her share of stupid mistakes when it came to romance in the past, but even she knew that a girl didn't go staying at an ex-boyfriend's house when she had a new boyfriend in the picture. At least not without raising a few eyebrows and calling a few things into question.

Well, she'd deal with the question of long-term housing tomorrow. She didn't know how she'd find a new place to stay without any money in her bank account, but she'd been in tighter spots in the past, so she was confident she'd manage. Worst case scenario, she'd sleep in her car for a few days, but it wouldn't be for the first time, so she was hardly terrified by the prospect. She wasn't to that point yet, however; for tonight, there was a reasonably comfortable couch at the Planet that would do in a pinch.

Driving to the big city, she fiddled with her phone, running her finger along its edge. She considered calling Bruce, but, frankly, if she heard his voice, she'd want to find an excuse to return to Gotham for a few days, until she worked out her housing situation. There were still things she needed to do before she allowed herself to go back.

She was just pulling in to a parking space in a lot down the street from the Planet when her phone chirped, signaling that she'd received a text message. She grinned when she looked down at the screen and read the message: _Two weeks. You still owe me a dance._

She knew he was partly teasing, but she didn't kid herself that his words were entirely in jest. He was making it clear that he was serious about seeing where their relationship would go. Now Lois had two weeks to figure out how to reconcile her conflicted feelings. Part of her heart belonged in Metropolis, with a job she was passionate about, a cousin she loved, and a friend she had (almost against her will) found. But part of her heart called her back to Gotham, to the potential of a new relationship, a butler who had somehow already found his way into her heart, a Pulitzer-winning story or two, and an intriguing superhero who (she was almost certain) was just on the brink of granting her an exclusive interview.

What was a girl to do?

* * *

Lois didn't end up sleeping on the couch, as she'd intended. When she got to the Planet, she decided to stop by her desk first, to check her messages and catch up on a few things that she'd missed in her absence. She must have drifted off at some point, because when she woke up the next morning to the smell of hot coffee, she was slumped over her desk, her head resting on some papers.

Her eyes opened to the sight of a steaming cup of coffee placed right next to her cheek, and she sat up with a start. Clark was standing right next to her desk, hiding his smile behind the mug in his hand as he sipped his own coffee. "Morning, Lois."

"Clark!" she said around a yawn. "I was just…uh…catching up on a few things," she explained sheepishly.

"I can see that," he replied, sounding slightly amused. Then he sobered. "I didn't know you were coming back today." He paused, then continued, "I read the articles you wrote while you were in Gotham. I'm glad you're back safe."

Given how he'd urged her to stay in Gotham in their brief phone calls while she'd been away, she couldn't help but smile. "I thought you'd be worried I came back, given that the monster is still running loose on the city streets," she said, trying for a teasing tone but knowing her tone came across as more sarcastic.

"Well, I've come to the conclusion that you're going to get yourself in trouble and be in danger wherever you go," he responded, either not catching her sarcasm or not rising to the bait. Then he cleared his throat. "I saw your picture in the paper. Well, your pictures." She tilted her head back to meet his gaze and arched her eyebrows expectantly, trying to decipher his tone. But he didn't seem to know where to go with that observation once he'd thrown it out, so he added lamely, "I just…I'm glad you're back."

Lois stifled another yawn. "Thanks. But do you think we could catch up later? I'm just…I'm not in the mood right now. I didn't sleep very well, I've got a lot of work to catch up on, and I just…I need to wake up, you know?"

He looked disappointed, but he nodded. "Of course. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

She scowled at her computer screen, at a loss herself as to where to begin. "Thanks, but unless you can find a way to contact the Red Blue Blur for me, I think I'm good."

Clark paused on his way to his desk. "The Red Blue Blur?" he repeated, prodding gently for an explanation for her odd request.

Lois waved her hand vaguely with a small shake of her head. "It's not important," she lied. It was important, but she usually kept things related to the Red Blue Blur a little close to the chest. Then an idea struck and craned her neck to look at Clark around her computer screen. "Hey, you've been covering the monster's attacks, right?" she asked.

His eyes were shuttered and he looked wary as he replied, "Yes. Why?"

"Can you get me your notes on that? I wanted to see something." She'd already pulled up all the articles written about the beast, but she still had some questions.

"Lois, I don't think –" he began, but she cut him off.

"Honestly, Clark, I'm not going to steal your story. I just wanted to check a couple things."

Clark hunched his shoulders and muttered, "That wasn't what I was worried about." She rolled her eyes and ignored him, returning her attention to the articles on her computer. But before she could return to her perusal, Jeff – an intern at the Planet who was always eager to please – stopped by her desk with the message that Tess Mercer wanted to see her. Lois sighed and took one last sip of coffee for fortification before heading to the dragon's lair. She had no doubt that her managing editor planned to give her what Tess undoubtedly considered to be a well-deserved dressing down for having disregarded her orders to return to Metropolis for so long.

"Here we go again," Lois mumbled as she shut off her computer screen and rose to her feet. Lois had long believed that she'd get a lot more done if it weren't for these interruptions by her managing editor, but even she wasn't brazen enough to commit career suicide by stating as much aloud to the woman in question. She could only hope she'd managed to get enough coffee in her system this morning to continue to exercise such restraint.

The day flew by, and by the time her last coworker left her alone in the bullpen, she still was no closer to figuring things out. Ollie had come to Gotham to ask for her help. While he'd told her that he'd heard that Chloe was under a lot of stress and he was concerned about what he'd claimed to be strange behavior (although he'd been rather reluctant to elaborate), and while he had admitted that he wanted her to return to Metropolis in part because he'd missed her and wanted to make sure she was safe, that wasn't his primary reason for his visit. Or so he'd claimed.

_"Lois, I need your help," he said, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. He looked so intent, Lois was a little taken aback. "You have a – an understanding with the Red-Blue Blur? I mean, you talk to him on occasion, right? He listens to you?" _

_She paused and then slowly nodded her head. "I haven't talked to him since I left Metropolis, but we used to talk on occasion. Never face to face, of course, but he called me a few times. I don't know that he really listens to me. I don't know him that well. But we have talked, if that's what you're asking."_

_"Could you get in touch with him?" he pressed._

_"Ollie, what are you –?"_

_But he didn't let her finish. "I hate to ask you this. I know you needed some time away, and it looks like things with you and Bruce are – are going well." He seemed less than entirely thrilled with the prospect. "Given how open I've been about my feelings about you – and Bruce – you have no reason to believe this, but I wouldn't be here if I had any other choice. I need you to come back to Metropolis and get in touch with the Red-Blue Blur. It's important."_

_She considered his words carefully, her eyes searching his face for an ulterior motive. He seemed sincere, so she asked softly, "What's going on?"_

_He sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair, his anxiety clear. "I'm sure you know that the monster is still loose in Metropolis. We – I – have tried to stop him, but he's too powerful. I don't think he can be killed. I'm not even sure he can be stopped. Even if he can, I don't think I'm strong enough to do it. I would if I could, but…you were at Chloe's wedding, so I'm sure you have some idea. But he's strong, inhuman. If anyone can stop him, it's the Red-Blue Blur. In fact, he may be the only person strong enough to do it."_

_"But I'm sure he's working on it," Lois protested. "I may not know him very well, but I do know he's a hero. I'm sure he's doing everything he can to stop this monster; if I didn't believe that, I wouldn't have left Metropolis in the first place! What do you need me for?"_

_Oliver visibly sighed. "There is one thing we can try. There's a place we can send him, like a prison, and he won't be able to hurt anyone ever again." She threw him an incredulous look, wondering why they would need her help if they had such an obvious solution. Reading her expression, he continued, "It's not a perfect solution, and I don't know that the Red-Blue Blur will try it. But he has to, Lois. It may be our only way to stop this thing before it hurts anyone else."_

_She leaned forward. "There's something you're not telling me. What is it? If you have a prison that can hold him and that's the only thing that might stop him, why wouldn't the Red-Blue Blur try it? What am I missing? And how do you know about what the Red-Blue Blur intends to do? I didn't realize you knew each other."_

_His look of discomfort grew and, although they'd been talking softly, he threw a significant glance at the door and lowered his voice even more to avoid being overheard. "We're…aware of each other, but I wouldn't say we're friends. Certainly not lately. I can't talk to him like you do. Even if I could, he wouldn't listen to me. He's made it pretty clear he doesn't approve of my methods. As for why he may not be willing to try this, even though it may be our only shot…it's hard to explain. There would be no way to send the beast to this prison without sending someone who may be innocent with him. And…if he does this, the Red-Blue Blur may lose someone close to him. A friend. They work together, you could say, but this friend doesn't agree with this course of action. He's trying to find another way, but I don't think it exists. This may not be a perfect solution, but it's the only one we have."_

_Lois was momentarily thrown by the revelation that the Red-Blue Blur might lose a friend over this. Somehow, she hadn't really thought too much about his other relationships, although logically she knew he had to have some. She'd thought her relationship with the Red-Blue Blur was special, that she was closer to him than anyone else, although she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised to find she may have been wrong. There was so much she didn't know about him. After all, she'd never even seen his face._

_"So you want me to convince him to do this," she concluded. "I don't know that I can do that. Like I said, we talk on occasion, but I don't call him; he calls me. He has my cell phone number; if he really wanted to get in touch with me, he'd call. You're asking me to drop my investigation, leave Gotham," the fact that she'd have to leave Bruce, as well, hung silently between them, though the words remained unspoken, "when there's no way of knowing if I'll even be able to get a hold of him. And even if I can, I don't know that he'll listen to me."_

_Ollie reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it in his. "I know," he said gravely. "But I need you to try. I wouldn't ask if I could get through to him, myself. But, Lois, people are dying."_

_Lois knew it should be an easy choice, but it wasn't. People were dying in Metropolis, but people were dying in Gotham, too. There was no guarantee that she'd be able to get through the Red-Blue Blur, any more than there was a guarantee that she'd be able to help the Batman track down the Joker before anyone else was killed._

_But even as she struggled with this internal conflict, she knew she didn't really have a choice. The Batman could probably handle the Joker without her help; she knew he was smart, and he'd stopped the Joker before. It was probably just hubris that made Lois think he was in any real need for her help at all. Whereas she might be able to get through to the Red-Blue Blur, to help him stop the beast that had attacked Chloe's wedding and committed so many murders in Metropolis._

_"Okay," she finally conceded. "I'll see what I can do. Tomorrow." Before Oliver could argue, she said, "I don't know how to get a hold of the Red-Blue Blur when I get back to Metropolis, so it's not like I'll be able to do anything tonight anyway. But I'm in the middle of an investigation, here. Also, it's worth mentioning that Bruce and I are dating, and I'm not going to just run off on him like this. I promise I'll do what I can to get through to the Red-Blue Blur tomorrow, but to wrap up a couple of things here first."_

_"I'm sorry," he said gravely, and although Lois knew this couldn't be easy for him, he sounded like he meant it. "I wish I hadn't had to ask you to do this. I really do want you to be happy."_

_She scowled. "I know. Anyway, you should probably head back. There may be something you can do. Even if there isn't, I'm not sure how I'm going to explain why I suddenly need to return to Metropolis. But I'm pretty sure telling my new boyfriend that my ex-boyfriend needs me to leave with him would send the wrong impression. Anyway, I want to have one last night here, and, no offense, but I'd rather do it alone."_

_He nodded, and Lois hoped he wouldn't misunderstand or be hurt by the sentiment. She knew he still cared about her, and she never wanted to hurt him. But although Lois still cared about him, she had to be clear about their situation and respect the boundaries she'd set up between them. It would only hurt him more if she gave him the wrong impression._

_She loved Ollie and always would, but she knew that, as much as he cared about her – maybe even loved her – she would never feel like she was first with him. As she'd told Clark when she'd cried on his shoulder after their last breakup, Ollie had bigger responsibilities and was perhaps destined to leave her behind one day in pursuit of them. She couldn't handle being left behind again._

_An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and before she could find a way to break it, the door opened and Bruce came back into the room. Lois smiled when she saw him, but her happiness was no longer as carefree as it had been even ten minutes before. She wanted to spend more time with him but dreaded the inevitable goodbye._

_"Will Mister Queen be joining us for dinner?" Alfred asked with what Lois could swear was an uncharacteristic glower in the man in question's direction. _

Lois shook her head as if to shake off the memory as she turned her attention back to the present. As she'd predicted, she had no real way of getting a hold of the Red-Blue Blur. She could only hope he would try to contact her.

Grabbing her purse and coat, Lois headed towards the elevators. It was a long shot, but she might as well head to the phone booth where he usually contacted her. Maybe she'd get lucky and he'd call.

The booth in question wasn't far from the Daily Planet building, but the cold winter wind blowing through the city streets made it seem longer than usual. When she reached the booth, she picked up the phone, just to make sure it was in order – if it was broken, there would be no point wasting her time. The dial tone confirmed the phone was operation, so she replaced it on the receiver and stepped outside the booth, wishing she had brought a book or something to do to kill time.

The phone never rang, but after Lois had been there for at least an hour, she heard a noise in an alley nearby. Curious, she crept towards the sound. A dumpster stood in the alleyway, and a vagrant was rummaging around in the trash, muttering to himself over what he found. After a minute or two, he lifted his head and glared at her, and she apologized and backed away, recognizing her presence was unwelcome. But somehow the sight of the man in the dumpster triggered something in her memory. There was something she'd seen or read, something important that she was forgetting.

Lois closed her eyes and tried to bring it to mind, but it hovered elusively just out of reach. Was it something she'd read in the paper? Giving up on her quest for the night, she jogged back to the office, knowing this would haunt her until she put her finger on it.

It was after eight at night by the time Lois found what she was looking for. A small article at the bottom of one of the pages she'd perused earlier that day, it was the kind of story that would have gotten more coverage if the monster's most recent attacks didn't dominate the news cycle.

A garbage collector with Ray's Collection Service had been processing the trash at the local landfill when the compacting mechanism in his truck jammed. Upon investigation, he'd discovered what police believed to be a man's remains in a black garbage bag. The remains had been partially destroyed by the trash compactor, but even those that had been relatively untouched were damaged beyond recognition, and police were still investigating.

Lois scanned the article and then read the header. It was written by John Jefferson, one of the Planet's city beat reporters. She ran over to his desk and found his notebook in the top drawer. Although she knew she should feel guilty about reading his notes – which most reporters guarded jealously – she comforted herself with the knowledge she was hardly trying to steal his story as flipped through his notebook until she found his notes about the article in question.

John had talked to the police officer investigating the case, and he'd been told that the injuries to the body were extensive. It was almost as though the victim – still unidentified – had been attacked by a wild animal. John had initially wondered if this death could be tied to the monster in Metropolis, but he officer had told him that, while they couldn't rule anything out at the moment, they did not believe the two cases were related. For one thing, it wasn't the monster's m.o. to clean up after his attacks – certainly not by stuffing the body in a garbage bag and throwing it in the trash. The trash service also didn't collect within the major metropolitan area, where all of the monster's attacks (at least all but its attack on Chloe's wedding) had been localized. Ray's Collection Service operated mainly in Granville, a town close to both Metropolis and Smallville.

She didn't know why, but Lois was convinced the officer was wrong. The injuries to the body were very similar to injuries made to the monster's other victims. She also didn't know what the beast would be doing in Granville, but…wait. There was something about that name, Ray's Collection Service. She knew that name.

Reaching for her purse, she pulled out her bills and flipped through them until she came to the trash bill for the apartment. Tearing in her haste to unfold it, she scanned the sheet until she came to the small notation at the bottom – a notation she had almost overlooked when she'd scanned the bills earlier that day.

_"Smallville Trash Service trucks will be undergoing annual maintenance this month. We have arranged for Ray's Collection Service to service the area during this process. We are a family-run company and appreciate your understanding!"_

Ray's Collection Service had collected trash in Smallville this past month, during the time that police estimated the unnamed victim had been murdered. More, they had collected from outside Lois's very building.

The monster had crashed Chloe's wedding – the only confirmed attack by the beast outside of Metropolis. It had eviscerated Jimmy when the bridegroom had tried to protect his new wife from the monster's attack, and then it had kidnapped Chloe, who had gone missing for several days. While Lois held vigil by Jimmy's side, since Chloe couldn't, Chloe had eventually returned to Metropolis, physically unharmed but professing no memory of her time away and no explanation for the beast's behavior.

As far as she knew, Chloe had been the only person the monster had targeted in such a manner; it had killed a number of people after that day but had never again kidnapped a victim. It had gone after her once. Was it really implausible to believe that it might have decided to do so again? Lois couldn't explain why it had disposed of this body, it he had never bothered to do so before. But she'd be damned if she let it threaten, kidnap, or even breathe the same air as her cousin ever again.

Dropping her bills on her desk, Lois bypassed the elevators and took the stairs instead. Racing to her car, she drove like a bat out of hell towards Smallville, hoping she wasn't too late.


	16. Doomsday

**A/N: **Last chapter, this chapter, and next chapter were all originally supposed to be one chapter but GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY, the intended chapter was much, much longer than it seemed like it would be when it was playing out in my head. (I still have final edits to do on next week's chapter, but it looks like it would have been 47 pages long in total which is, you know, a third of the freakin' story - okay, book - at this point!) Incidentally, I temporarily replaced the pic above with the Lego Brois I made. I went to my local Lego store, and they had just got a shipment in of "girl hair" so I was able to make a Lois! (Girl bodies were still incredibly sparse, meaning that there are some boy Legos with incredibly luscious locks out there!) The Bruce figure has literally the only "guy hair" they had in stock at that point.

Anyway, I'll make another Bruce who's smiling in the picture, but I decided to get handcuffs. Bruce has handcuffed them together and is angry with Lois for once again putting herself in danger. She's smirking because...Lois!

I wish I had more brilliant thoughts to post, but...nothing's coming to mind. So I'll just reiterate a big "thank you!" to everyone who's read and reviewed thus far! You guys are the best!

**Chapter 16**

**Doomsday**

As Lois drove down what was charitably considered to be Smallville's main strip, heading towards the Talon, she looked around at the shops around her. Nothing seemed out of place. This might have been any other night in this sleepy little small town.

If the monster was after Chloe, he didn't seem to be in Smallville at the moment, given the lack of devastation. Of course, that didn't mean Lois would be content to leave without warning her cousin about her findings – and ideally take Chloe somewhere safe. But at least she was reassured that she'd gotten to Smallville in time. She'd been terrified the entire drive, since she'd tried several times to get Chloe on the phone but every call had gone directly to voicemail.

Pulling into a parking spot in front of the Talon, she grabbed her purse and hopped out of the car. She'd already jogged halfway up the stairs to the apartment above the coffee shop before she remembered her cousin's intention to have a romantic night at home with her husband.

It was entirely possible that Lois was about to walk into an entirely different ugly scene than she'd expected.

She stopped on the stairs, torn between her need to get her cousin someplace safe and her desperate desire to not see what was likely going on behind closed doors. She vacillated, shifting her weight back and forth as she considered her options. Then she began to trudge slowly up the stairs again, having finally decided that their romantic evening would hardly remain interrupted if the beast burst in on the scene – particularly since he'd nearly killed Jimmy, the last time he'd interrupted a romantic moment between the Olsons.

Outside the apartment door, Lois grimaced and rapped gently on the wood. When she got no response for a couple of minutes, she knocked harder. Still no response. "Please be wearing pants, you guys," she muttered as she used her key and cracked open the door. Squeezing her eyes shut, she poked her head into the room and called out, "Hey, you guys! It's me! I really, really hope you're dressed! I need to talk to Chloe!"

Nobody responded to her call, so she very cautiously cracked open one eye and looked around. The apartment was empty.

Lois breathed a deep sigh of relief, until she realized that this meant she couldn't warn Chloe about the danger she was in. Muttering a curse under her breath, she stepped into the apartment, dropped her purse by the door, and began her search for any indication of where her cousin and Jimmy had gone.

She didn't see anything helpful in the living room, so she grabbed her cell phone and tried once more to call her cousin as she walked very gingerly into the bedroom. The call went straight to voicemail again, so she slipped her phone into her pocket and looked around, trying to simultaneously search for clues while also trying not to see too much. Some things couldn't be unseen – or unimagined.

Not only did she not find any clues, but the bed was still neatly made. The bed hadn't been slept in (or been the scene of the other obvious activity, for that matter). She hadn't seen any dirty dishes in the sink or evidence of dinner. Where could Chloe and Jimmy be?

When she wandered back into the living room, she saw a man standing by the front door and let out a little yelp of surprise. Then she recognized him, and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, my god, Davis! Where did you come from?" she gasped, pressing a hand against her chest. Davis Bloome worked as a paramedic in Metropolis, and she knew that he and Chloe were friends – though she couldn't even begin to guess what he was doing at the apartment at this time of night. Or why he'd felt free to let himself into the apartment.

He threw her a sheepish look. "I'm looking for Chloe. Have you seen her?"

Frowning in confusion, she answered, "No. I was just looking for her, myself." She considered pressing him for further explanation, but then she decided it didn't matter. What was important was finding Chloe; if they split up to look for her, they would find her faster than if Lois searched alone.

Racing forward, she blurted, "You know, you can help. I need to find Chloe right away. I think the monster – the one that's been attacking Metropolis lately – I think it may be after her. We have to find her, and then I'm going to take her somewhere it won't be able to reach her." Maybe she'd ship her cousin off to Gotham. Alfred could look out for her while Lois did what she could to live up to the promise she'd given Oliver.

His eyes narrowed and he frowned. "Where are you going to take her?"

Lois brushed past him and jogged down the stairs to the bottom floor of the Talon, Davis fast on her heels. "I think I should probably keep that to myself. I mean, the last time someone got between the monster and Chloe…well, I just think it's safer if nobody knows where she is until that monster is stopped. The important thing is to make sure that the creature can't get close to her ever again."

She was almost to the front door when she realized that she'd forgotten her purse with her keys inside in the apartment. "Crap, I need to grab –" she broke off when she saw Davis's expression. His eyes were narrowed in fury, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he grit his teeth. He was enraged, and Lois took a step back, confused at his inexplicable reaction. "Davis?"

"I can't let you do that," he said darkly, stepping towards her. Lois could swear his eyes looked almost red in this light and his skin had taken on a grayish pallor. "I can't let you take Chloe away."

She frowned. "You know,I suspected that maybe you had a little crush on Chloe, but you do realize nothing's ever going to come of that, right? I hate to have to break it to you, but she's married to someone else. So I suggest you get a firm grip on your puppy love and help me find her. I would think that, if you actually cared about her, you'd be eager to make sure she was somewhere safe."

"I'm not going to let you take her from me," he growled, his voice a deeper rumble than it should have been. She could see a vein throb in his forehead. Several veins, actually. As she watched, more stood out in stark relief, and when she met his eyes again, she could see that it wasn't a trick of the light. His eyes really were glowing red.

Lois didn't know what was going on, but she'd met enough meteor freaks in her life to know that she didn't want any part of it. Davis was blocking her way to the staircase, so she abandoned that option and whirled to the door. She'd figure out how to get her keys later; for now, all she wanted was to put a little distance between herself and Davis.

She hit the front door at a full run, but her exit was temporarily delayed. She'd locked the door to the Talon after coming inside, and she cursed herself for doing so as she struggled to throw the deadbolt. Back when she'd been helping prepare for Chloe's wedding, she'd noticed that the deadbolt had begun to stick in the lock, but with everything that had happened, she hadn't yet had a chance to fix it. She wished now she hadn't left it as just another item on a long "to do" list.

The deadbolt had almost slid open when Davis grabbed her by the arm and yanked hard. He was stronger than she'd expected, sending her reeling. She slammed into a table, knocking down the chairs set on top of the table and following them to the floor.

Lois winced when her hip impacted the tile floor, but she didn't have time to bemoan her injuries. Scrambling to get her legs beneath her, Lois jumped to her feet and darted towards the back door. She'd considered running upstairs to get her keys, but she'd mocked enough horror movie heroines in her day to know that she would be stupid to head that direction, when the apartment had only the one exit. If Davis followed her, she wouldn't have any way to escape.

However, the Talon did have a back entrance – a service entrance that led into the alley. She didn't waste time looking behind her to see what Davis was doing as she darted towards the back door. She didn't make it, however. She had just made it to the door leading down to the basement storage room – curiously, it was standing open – when Davis grabbed her by the shoulder.

Lois turned, her hand clenched into a fist, and used her momentum to her advantage as she decked him as hard as she could. He reeled, but he didn't fall as she had hoped. In fact, he recovered much faster than she'd expected. He turned back towards her, and Lois screamed. This time, she knew her eyes weren't deceiving her. Davis's skin was ashen, and bony protuberances had begun to break through the skin along the ridge of his eyebrows and down the line of his nose.

Lunging forward, he wrapped his hand around her neck and lifted her off her feet. "I'm not going to let anyone take Chloe from me," he snarled, tightening his grip until she could barely breathe. Before her eyes, she could see the bony ridge growing more distinct, and muscles rippled beneath his skin. She could swear he was growing larger, more massive, and she could feel him growing stronger with every passing second.

"What…are….you?" she gasped, bringing one hand to her neck to try to wrench his hand away. He was too strong for her, though, so her effort to escape was futile. She didn't bother to ask who he was; she already knew. She didn't know how it could be true, but it was undeniable: Davis Bloome was the monster.

He ignored her question, and Lois kicked out, trying to hurt him in the hopes he would let her go. She might as well have been swatting him with a newspaper, for all the notice he took of her efforts. She still had her left hand at her neck, trying to claw her way out of his grip, so she used her right hand to hit him. Curling her fingers tightly, she struck him in the nose with the fleshy part of her palm, hoping to break his nose. Instead, when she hit the bones breaking through the skin, they tore into her palm, cutting deep.

Davis smiled when she winced in pain. He was looking at her with such hatred, it would have taken her breath away if he wasn't doing so already. His grip wasn't loosening despite her best efforts. If she had any chance of getting him to release her, it would probably only be by enraging him to the point where he acted without thought and either threw her or released her with the intention of hitting her instead.

"You think…Chloe…would have…anything to do…with you?" she gasped with what little air she could manage. "You're…a freak…of nature." His eyes flashed, and she saw that she was getting to him. She could also feel it, as his fingers convulsed on her neck. She only hoped she got him angry enough to let her go before he grew so strong he snapped her neck. "A…killer," she wheezed. "If she…knew…" she winced as his grew tightened even more. She could barely speak, but she just managed to end her sentence, "Chloe…would…despise…you."

Davis let out a scream of rage and, just as she'd hoped, he threw her. Unfortunately, instead of propelling her towards either exit door, he threw her down the basement stairs. She had just enough time to remember to cover her head protectively when she landed and rolled, tumbling down the steps to the floor below.

Lois landed hard, winded by the impact. She wished she could take a moment to take stock, make sure nothing had been broken in her careening fall down the steps. But she hadn't forgotten about the beast, and she had no doubt that he would come down to finish the job.

Pressing her palms on the cold concrete floor, Lois pushed as hard as she could, levering herself up until she could get her feet beneath her. As soon as she straightened and put weight on her right leg, she let out a sharp cry of pain and almost fell to the ground again. Her knee throbbed; she must have twisted it during her fall.

She heard the creak of a stair above and glanced up to see the monster start making his way down the steps towards her. She really didn't have the time to worry about a twisted knee. Gritting her teeth, she ignored the pain as she pivoted on her good leg, looking for a weapon of some kind to use against the creature.

She didn't find a weapon, but she did notice that the room looked different than it had the last time she'd come down here. Then she realized why: there was a cot pushed up against the wall, rumpled blankets tossed on top. At the foot of the bed, a paramedic's kit was pushed up against the wall. Lois couldn't believe it; had Davis been camping out in the basement of the Talon? But there was no way he could have done so without either Olson's knowledge or permission, since he would need a key to get into the building after hours. (And, realistically, the odds were good that if anyone had given Davis permission to live down here, it hadn't been Jimmy.)

Then again, if Chloe had thought her friend had fallen on hard times and needed a place to stay, why wouldn't she offer to help him out? She obviously had no idea that he was the homicidal monster that had terrorized both her wedding and Metropolis. If she did, Lois couldn't believe she'd ever have agreed to let him stay in the basement of the Talon, located in the heart of Smallville.

But the fact that Davis had taken advantage of Chloe and, in so doing, knowingly and intentionally put her in harm's way made Lois absolutely furious. After all, he could have snapped and hurt her – not to mention Jimmy – and she wouldn't have had any idea of the danger she was in until it was too late.

Of course, Lois knew this was an absurd reaction to the situation. It wasn't just Chloe that Davis was endangering. He was putting the entire town of Smallville at risk – or, at the very least, any poor soul unfortunate enough to be patronizing the Talon the next time he got angry and turned into the beast. Not to mention the innocent victims whose lives he'd already taken.

Still, the thought made her angry, and her anger helped her push past the pain. She heard the creature's heavy footsteps on the stairs, and she darted as fast as her leg would allow to the basement windows. They were high in the wall, and she saw that one was already cracked open, wide enough for her to slip through. She headed for that one, getting a boost from a chair conveniently placed nearby.

Bracing her palms on the windowsill, Lois jumped and pulled her body through the opening. The cut on her hand made it hurt like hell; pebbles and dirt were getting ground into her wound, and she gritted her teeth against the pain. She was almost through the window when she felt something grab her foot, and she looked behind her to see the monster had a hold of her.

He began to slowly pull her back through the window, and Lois cried out, trying to yank her foot out of his grip. He was too strong for her, but she had to do something. She knew if he got her back into the basement, she wouldn't be likely to make it out alive. With a soft sob, she yanked on her foot again and again, but it wasn't doing any good. She was going to have to try something else.

Surprise was her only option. Instead of trying to yank her foot towards her, she kicked out, catching the creature in the face. Her foot ground against the bones protruding through his forehead and nose, but she doubted she did any real damage. However, she had accomplished what she'd hoped, at least to an extent. The monster didn't release her, but he loosened his grip just enough that she was able to twist her ankle and tear her foot free.

Her freedom wasn't without cost. In the struggle, she was pretty sure she twisted her ankle. She also felt the beast's claws cut into her skin; they tore through the hard leather of her boot and scraped against her flesh as she yanked her foot out of his grasp. Still, it was worth a few scrapes if it meant a chance at running away.

Strike that. She might be able to get away, if she was lucky, but it wouldn't be through running away. With her twisted knee and now a wrenched ankle, she wouldn't be running any time soon. Lois didn't delude herself into thinking she was safe, but she had perhaps slowed the beast down from his pursuit. She let out a little sob of frustration as she more hobbled than ran down the alley and into the street.

The beast's roar of anger at losing his prey followed her, echoing between the narrow brick buildings, and she could swear the entire structure trembled at the sound of a heavy blow. It was entirely possible that the monster intended to bring the building down in his determination to come after her. She might not have slowed him down as much as she'd hoped.

Lois pounded her hand against the hood of her car as she passed. She wished she could jump behind the wheel and drive away, but her keys were in the bag, still upstairs in the apartment. Particularly now that the beast seemed determined to bring the building down, it would be suicide to try to go after the keys now. She might have been able to hotwire it if she had a little more time. She was sadly out of practice – a fact she made a mental note to rectify, provided she survived tonight.

There was no point lamenting the things she didn't have, particularly since she didn't have a lot of time. As she ran as best she could down the street, however, she also realized that she didn't have many options. The problem was, the heart of Smallville just wasn't that big. There weren't a lot of places to go.

Storefronts flanked her on either side of the street, and some of them had alleys that were either dead ends or led to the largely residential areas that surrounded the one street that generously could be described as Smallville's business district. Best case scenario, she could find safe haven somewhere among the sleepy small town houses, but that would mean leading the monster who had torn a bloody path through Metropolis there, as well. She could only imagine the devastation he could wreak when let loose in an area full of innocent – and sleeping – civilians.

Of course, the street led directly to the highway… after passing through several miles of empty farmland. Lois worked hard to stay in shape – she worked out on a regular basis, and her exercise regimen usually included a quick run. But that was when she had two limbs that worked properly – not one good leg and one leg with a bad knee and ankle, that felt like it was shooting spikes of fire directly up her spine and into her brain with every step.

So there she was, with a homicidal, enraged beast after her, no real avenue of escape, a car she couldn't use, a bad leg, and…not a lot of other options. Make that no other options, really.

Lois's bad leg gave out beneath her and she fell to the ground, scraping her knees and palms as she landed. She looked over her shoulder towards the Talon, just in time to see the beast step into the street. He was huge, enraged, and even under the dim bulb of the streetlamp, she could tell that he was searching for something. For her, no doubt.

Staying low to the ground, Lois scampered behind a parked car, her injured leg putting up a hell of a protest at the abuse. She squeezed her eyes shut and said a silent prayer, then peered over the hood at the monster. For once tonight, she had a bit of luck: he didn't seem to have seen her. Still, her luck wouldn't hold out forever. She couldn't just sit here like a sitting duck; she had to find a better place to hide.

There was a dark alley she thought she might be able to reach without stepping into the open, so she darted towards it, hoping her luck held out just a little longer. Behind her, she heard the beast's growl again, but when she pressed her back against the rough brick wall and peered around the corner, she breathed a soft sigh of relief. He was moving towards her, but she was walking slowly, as though he hadn't seen her.

Backing slowly down the alley, Lois scanned the ground, the walls, the rooftops, looking for a means of escape. There was a ladder leading to the roof, but it was up too high. There was no way she'd be able to reach it, even if she climbed on top of something. She tried the heavy metal doors on either side, but they were locked and it wasn't likely she'd be able to break them down. The alley ended in a dead end.

There was nowhere for her to go.

Realistically, it was only a matter of time until the monster – it was hard for her to think of him as Davis, for some reason – found her, and the odds of her getting away another time…well, they weren't great. Given the size of the area and the limited number of places for her to hide, it probably wouldn't take him very long to find her. And then…well…it was pretty unlikely Lois would make it out in one piece.

Her breath was coming in tiny sobs of air as she struggled with the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. She had to calm down and focus. So there was a good chance she was not going to survive the night, but she couldn't focus on that. She had to remember that, if she didn't make it out of this alive, nobody would know what she had discovered. Chloe – and every other innocent person in Smallville and Metropolis – would still be in danger.

She had to find a way to warn Chloe. Her hands visibly shaking, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and flipped it open. Out in the street, she heard the monster growl again. He was getting closer.

Lois scooted behind the alley dumpster and curled her body into a ball, trying to make herself as small as possible. She scrolled through her contacts list, trying to decide who to call.

She couldn't call Chloe; even if her phone hadn't gone immediately to voicemail the last dozen or so times Lois had tried to call, she was afraid her cousin would respond by rushing back to the apartment, which was the absolute last thing she wanted.

She considered calling Clark but dismissed that thought almost immediately. For one thing, if he was at home, he would probably rush into town to help and get himself killed. She was also concerned that he wouldn't be able to get through to Chloe. Lois knew that Chloe would be reluctant to believe that Davis was actually the monster that had been attacking Metropolis – Lois probably wouldn't believe it if she hadn't seen it herself. And since Davis was her friend, she would be even more reluctant to believe it of him. That was only human nature.

Chloe was Lois's cousin; both women could be so stubborn, Lois wondered if the trait ran in the blood. She wouldn't want to believe the truth, and Lois wasn't sure that Clark would be able to get past that initial reaction. He wouldn't want to hurt Chloe by forcing the truth on her. Heck, he may not even want to believe it himself, given that Davis wasn't a complete stranger to him. This wasn't one of those situations where they could afford to lose any time.

There was one other reason why Lois didn't want to call Clark at the moment, but even she realized she was probably being unfair. Unfair or not, she still felt that he wasn't the right person to call.

Then again, there was Oliver. He wasn't so close to either Chloe or Davis that his judgment in this situation would be impaired. That said, she knew how much he cared about her. Ollie, for all of his virtues, was a hothead. The minute he heard that Lois was in danger, and particularly if she didn't make it out alive, he would react. He would probably rush into the path of danger and get himself killed.

While Lois appreciated that he cared so much about her, nothing would be served by his death. She had no illusions that he could really stop this beast; he'd admitted as much to her. She would not allow him to get himself killed in a search for vengeance, when he had no real chance to win that fight.

She needed to call someone who would believe her and would be both willing and able to do something about what she'd discovered, but who wouldn't act on pure emotion, jump heedlessly into the path of danger, and die a senseless death. She knew who to call. His name had been highlighted in her phone for the last several seconds, even as she tried to find a way to justify dialing his number before any other.

While all of her previous sentiments were absolutely true (and admittedly valid concerns), she knew the real reason she'd decided to call Bruce. They might not have known each other very long, but if she was right – if this was the end of the line for her tonight – then she wanted to talk to him one more time. Even as she rejected the thought for being too morbid, she realized that she wanted to say goodbye.

Lois hit the button to turn down the sound on the phone and dialed his number. Hunkering down even further, she peeked around the corner of the dumpster, watching the street for the beast. She could swear she could hear his breathing, though it could have been the harsh rasp of her own breath. "Please," she whispered, clenching her eyes shut for a moment as she murmured her prayer. "Please pick up."

"Lois!" The ringing stopped abruptly, and Lois almost sagged in relief when she heard the warm, familiar voice on the other end of the line. "You know, it's funny you're calling. I was just on my way to – Lois?" He broke off, and she could hear the concern in his voice. She didn't know what had alerted him; perhaps he had heard the raggedness of her breathing through the phone.

"Bruce," she murmured in relief, keeping her voice low in an attempt to avoid being heard by the monster. "Listen, I – I don't have very long to talk." She bit her lower lip; now that she had him on the phone, she didn't really know what to say, how to begin.

"Lois, what's wrong?" he demanded, his voice intent. "Where are you?"

"I'm in Smallville. I…," she heard the soft sob that escaped before she could bite it back. Keeping her voice low, she blurted, "I came to find my cousin, Chloe. Look, there's not really a good way to say this, but I…I need you to do something for me. I need you to deliver a message."

"You sound scared. What's going on?" he demanded. Lois cringed when she heard the monster roar in rage as he searched from her, and she ducked her head back behind the dumpster. Her breath had seized in her throat at the sound, and it took some effort before she could reply.

When she spoke again, her voice was tight, a half octive higher than usual, strained with fear. She was so scared she could barely breathe, but she bit out, "I _need_ you to do this for me, Bruce. I think I'm – I'm – I don't think I'll be able to do it myself." She couldn't bring herself to say the words. _"I think I'm going to die tonight."_

Pushing past that thought, she charged ahead, desperate to convey her message before the monster found her, as he almost inevitably would. "I found the beast – the monster who's been attacking Metropolis. I don't have time to explain, so you have to just believe me. He's a man; I saw him change into – into – that thing. His name is Davis Bloome. He's a paramedic in Metropolis."

"I understand," Bruce said shortly. She knew he had to be confused, and she had no doubt he wanted to know more. But he still listened to her, and he didn't waste time asking questions she didn't have the luxury of answering at the moment.

"You have to tell Chloe okay? Whatever it takes, you have to get her to believe you. She thinks Davis is a friend, but he's obsessed with her. He's living in the basement, and he's dangerous. When I told him that I was taking her away, he – he got angry. He's after me, and I don't think…there's nowhere I can go. So you have to do this for me, okay? Promise me!"

Now she knew she wasn't just hearing the sound of her own breath. This breathing was too deep, expanding through a chest cavity more massive than any human's. She didn't dare look around the side of the dumpster again, but when she heard the sound of a heavy footstep and felt the ground rumble slightly beneath her feet, she had to fight back a whimper. He had stepped into the alley.

"Oh, my god, I think it's found me," she breathed in a voice barely above a whisper. "You have to do this for me, okay?" she pleaded with him. "Whatever else happens, make sure Chloe is safe. And then you'll have to find the Red-Blue Blur. I don't know how, but you have to try. He's the only one who can stop this thing. Understand?"

She heard Bruce say something softly into her ear, but she didn't really register his words. She was too busy counting the beast's steps as they approached. He was so close, she had only seconds left. Shifting her weight, she braced herself on the balls of her feet and prepared to run.

She might not make it. She probably wouldn't, in fact. But she'd be damned if she would lie down and die. She was Lois Freaking Lane, the oldest daughter of General Sam Lane of the United States Army. He was one of the toughest sonofabitches in the world, and she was one of the few people brave enough to stand up to him. She had seen him make grizzled soldiers shake in their boots, but she regularly told him to go to hell when he crossed the line. She'd probably die tonight, but she'd be damned if she'd be cowering when she did.

She couldn't bear to hang up the phone, needing to feel some connection to another person in the last few moments of her life, so she left the line open as she stuck it back into her coat pocket. Then she breathed shallow breaths from her nose, trying to remain quiet as she prepared to run. The monster was making its way down the alley slowly, which meant it was still searching for her but didn't know for certain that she was there. She might be able to run past it, if she timed it right. The monster was big; she hoped that size came at the expense of speed.

The dumpster rolled slightly, moved by the tremor caused by the monster's footsteps. He was only a few feet away. One more step, and he'd find her. Lois darted forward, scooting close to the wall to squeeze past as she made a beeline for the alley's entrance. Her knee and ankle throbbed in agony, but she ignored it and sprinted as fast as she could, hoping desperately that she'd be fast enough.

She almost was. As she'd hoped, the monster seemed taken by surprise, and she almost made it past. But it recovered quickly and turned, sweeping a massive hand towards her in a backhanded motion. It just grazed her, but that slight impact had enough force to send her flying.

Lois was propelled down the length of the alley and into the street. She careened to a stop with bone jarring force, her head cracking against the pavement; her breath was driven from her body when she landed and rolled to a stop next to a truck parked against the far curb.

She moaned and shifted, struggling to get her feet beneath her, but she couldn't quite get her brain and her body in sync. Her head was throbbing; it felt like she had spikes shoved through her eyes, directly into her skull. She would have thrown up, except she was pretty sure it would hurt worse – if that were possible.

Forcing her eyes open, she tried to focus. Her head was spinning, but even through the double vision, she could see the monster approach. She knew she didn't have the strength to run; she'd been through so much, she just needed a moment to try to recover. She didn't have any weapons; until she could get her brain to suggest a plan without the rest of her body wanting to revolt, she was helpless.

As the monster moved closer, she managed one final push of energy, dragging herself under the truck. She didn't think it would hold the beast off for long, but all she needed was a little time to try to get it together. She sucked in a deep, shaky breath and pressed her forehead against the rough pavement, trying to get herself together for the next push. She was terrified, but fear wouldn't get her anywhere. Anger, however, would – it would give her the adrenaline she needed to ignore the pain and keep fighting.

"I don't want to die," she whispered miserably. Lifting her head, she scanned the street, looking for some kind of miracle. "I don't want to die," she repeated louder, though her voice came out as more of a moan. "I don't want to die," – a bald statement of fact. "I don't. Want. To die!" This time, the words came out as a growl, spit out between gritted teeth, her voice filled with rage. Turning her head, she saw the beast stop right next to the truck. "And you're not getting your hands on Chloe ever again, you son of a bitch," she snarled.

There was a sound of metal being pulled apart, and the monster lifted the truck off of her. She could see his red eyes, filled with hate, as he lifted the truck above his head and then brought it down fast, intending to crush her until a pile of twisted metal. But Lois had anticipated his attack.

Sweeping her leg in a wide arc, she tried to hook her foot behind his knee, intending to bring him down. Her aim was perfect, but it didn't make any difference. He shrugged her off like she was no more significant than an insect buzzing around his head.

"Oh, come on! You have to have a weakness!" she exclaimed, rolling out of the way of the truck being propelled forcibly towards her head. With one last burst of energy, she got to her feet and raced forward, driving her fist into his stomach. Again, her attack seemed to have no impact, but Lois was almost beyond caring that she was putting herself in the monster's reach. Whatever she had left, she was going to use it to try to bring him down.

The beast roared in anger, and she screamed right back into its face, a howl of primal fury. "You don't get to have her, you freak!" she bellowed. She felt tears stream down her cheeks, but she didn't stop fighting. In fact, her tears only made her angrier. "You can kill me, but I swear, she'll hate you for it! So go ahead! She will never –" she punched him in the stomach, "ever –" she aimed a fist at his jaw and though she hit him with enough force to split the skin on her knuckles, he merely shook off the impact, "forgive you!"

With these last words, she aimed a side-kick at his knee, hoping to disable him. Before her foot could make contact, however, he grabbed her around the throat and lifted, slowly tightening his grip to squeeze the life out of her.

Lois felt him lift her off her feet, but she didn't stop her assault. Maybe her attack would have no impact on him, but she was sure as hell not going to stop. Perhaps she'd get lucky and land one solid blow, something that would actually cause him pain. He'd hurt her, and now she wanted to hurt him.

She hit, scratched, and kicked at him; none of it did any good. Attacks that began so fiercely began to lose power as Lois fought for breath. Her effort was in vain. She met the monster's red eyes and realized he was enjoying the sight in front of him. She heard a deep, gutteral rumble, and it took a moment to realize what it was.

The beast was laughing as it slowly choked the life out of her.

If she had any oxygen, the realization would have made her renew her fight. But her lungs were burning, her mind was swimming, and she couldn't seem to get her limbs to respond. This was it, the moment she'd known was coming from the second she saw the bony ridges break through the skin of Davis's face.

Lois was going to die.

Her mouth opened and shut helplessly, her arms fell uselessly by her side, and blackness crept along the sides of her vision. Black spots spread in front of her eyes, but she could swear the world around her grew fuzzy before growing dark. And then, as if from a dream, she heard a voice.

It had to be a dream, the last delusion of an oxygen-deprived brain, because the voice was louder than it seemed it should have been – as though the command came through a loudspeaker. "Put her down!" She could swear she recognized that voice, harsh and raspy. It sounded like Batman, though of course it couldn't be, since he was in Gotham. But it was nice, thinking a hero had come to rescue her. It was a nice thought to die to.

Darkness overtook her, and she went limp. She didn't even feel the monster drop her to the ground, where she fell in a heap and lay motionless.


	17. The Morning After

**A/N: **Whew! I was posting this and then decided to entirely re-work this chapter because I just wasn't quite happy with it. So, in the past few hours, it's been completely gutted and redone, and I hope you all enjoy! For the record, my boyfriend has asked me to make the following things clear: 1) He deserves credit for the word "grappling" since I was blanking on it this morning; 2) He deserves credit for any scenes involving Bruce's sexiness because...okay, I'm a little less clear on that one. I have my suspicions, but I've decided to give him that one anyway, just because he's so darn cute. 3) He also suggested "erection" go into this chapter, but I told him that would be later. ;)

All that said, I hope everyone actually gets notification by that this has been posted, because it is disconcerting that a couple of chapters went by with no notice to some followers. Thank you, everyone, for your continued support.

**Chapter 17**

**The Morning After**

"Put her down now!" Batman reiterated the demand. Using special goggles to see through the smoke bombs he'd shot onto the pavement to cloak his movements, he could see the monster tilt his head back and scan the sky, looking for the source of the command. He watched as the beast dropped Lois to the ground. She didn't move from where she landed. He could only pray he'd arrived in time, that she wasn't dead.

Putting the Bat on autopilot, Batman raised the hood and stood. Climbing onto the wing, he jumped, aiming towards the monster. His feet slammed into the beast's chest, full force, but it only knocked the monster back a few feet.

His trajectory interrupted, Batman fell to the ground and rolled in a backwards summersault, ending in a crouched position, close to the ground. The beast was staggering forward, its arms swinging wildly as it looked for its attacker. Lois was still lying motionless on the ground, too close to the fight for comfort. Batman would have to drive the monster further away from her.

If his previous hit was any indication, he knew he wouldn't be able to overcome this creature using brute force. He was going to rely on confusion and misdirection to drive it off. Changing strategies, he threw a handful of small globes at the beast's face; they exploded in the air around him, making loud pops and brief flashes of light, but not really aimed to do much damage. Still, they accomplished what he'd wanted. The monster staggered backwards and waved his arms in confusion, putting a little more distance between himself and Lois.

Batman pressed his advantage. Charging forward, he barreled into the beast's chest. As he expected, his attack had little effect. The monster took one step backwards and then aimed a punch at his attacker's chest. If it hadn't been for the fact that Batman had anticipated the punch, was able to roll with the blow, and was covered in body armor, he was pretty sure his ribs would have been shattered. As it was, he'd have a few more bruises in the morning. He backed away, but he'd gotten the beast's attention. It followed him, moving even further away from Lois.

Of course, this wasn't a long-term solution. He didn't know how he could take down the monster, and he wouldn't be able to evade his blows eternally, particularly since the smoke was dissipating fast. He also couldn't just leave it to roam free in the middle of a residential area, full of potential victims. The most he could hope for was to keep the monster on the defensive. Maybe he could wear the monster down before he got too exhausted himself.

And so he did his dance with the monster – distracting and confusing it as best he could, trying to stay just out of range of the beast's attacks, only moving in when it seemed like the creature might be losing interest and would attack something else.

The monster turned to pick up a parked car, with the clear intent to throw it at Batman's head (which he knew because it would make the third car he'd thrown Batman's way). There was a strong gust of wind that swept his cape to the side as he dove out of the way, and then the monster was gone.

He slowly turned, looking for his opponent. It wasn't possible that it had just disappeared, but it had. He paused and looked around again, then he turned back to Lois. The beast was a question for another day; making sure Lois was okay was his primary and more immediate concern.

He ran over to her and knelt by her side, and when he noticed the steady rise and fall of her chest – the first sign of life he'd noticed since the monster had dropped her – he exhaled the first easy breath he'd managed since he'd received her phone call and heard the fear in his voice.

He had just started to lift her into his arms when he heard a voice from the mouth of the nearby alley. "Let me take her to the hospital," the stranger offered in a grave voice. "I can get her there faster."

He looked up from his kneeling position, in retrospect not terribly surprised to see the figure before him. There was only one plausible explanation for the monster's disappearance. "Who are you?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

"I'm…the Red-Blue Blur," the figure replied in a halting voice, the introduction awkward, as though it wasn't one he'd had to make before.

"Nice name," Batman pointed out, shifting Lois's weight against him so that her head was resting on his shoulder. He hadn't lifted her yet, still weighing his options. The Red-Blue Blur was undoubtedly right; if half of what Batman had read about Metropolis's superhero was correct, it was true that he would be able to get her to the hospital faster. On the other hand, he was a stranger, and that meant Batman didn't trust him.

"Thanks," the Red-Blue Blur said. "Lois gave it to me."

Batman looked down at her again. "I know." Without lifting his head, he asked, "Where is he?"

The other man paused again. "I…I took care of him. He won't be able to hurt anyone ever again."

He frowned as he considered this vague promise. "You killed him?"

"He's in the Phantom Zone. It's a kind of prison," his companion refuted, sounding insulted by the question. Batman didn't care; his companion's feelings weren't his problem. "Let me take her," he reiterated again, his voice soft. "Please."

Batman closed his eyes. Much as he hated to admit it, he had to concede the fact that the Red-Blue Blur could get her to the hospital faster than he would be able, even with the Bat. He pressed his cheek against Lois's forehead for a brief moment, wishing he had a moment to allow himself to be Bruce for her and not just Batman. He wanted to tell the Red-Blue Blur to be gentle with her, that she was important to him. But since he couldn't do either of those things, he remained silent. However, since he didn't trust the Red-Blue Blur and wasn't inclined to leave her safety to chance, he palmed a small GPS tracker from his belt and slipped it into the folds of her coat as lay Lois gently back on the ground, stood, and backed away.

"Thank you," the Red-Blue Blur murmured and then disappeared with Lois, another strong breeze the sole herald of his passing.

Batman frowned. Hitting a button on a remote attached to his belt, he waited as the Bat landed and then jumped inside. He couldn't be there for her as Batman, but he'd be there for her as Bruce. In fact, he'd be damned if he wasn't there for her the moment she woke up at the hospital.

* * *

As the Bat rose in the air, Batman turned in the direction of the nearest hospital and then hit a few buttons, pulling up the GPS trace on Lois. Maybe he could be accused of paranoia, but his caution proved warranted, once the Bat picked up the tracker's signal. The signal wasn't coming from the hospital; it was coming from a building in the heart of Metropolis.

Gritting his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache, he turned towards the signal and raced towards the city. He'd been pushing the Bat well past its intended limits tonight, but it just needed to hold out a little longer. Once he got to Lois, he'd find a place to hide the aircraft and call his butler. Alfred would certainly want to come to the hospital, and he could also send Lucius to pick up the Bat for repair.

Batman finally tracked the signal to a large clock tower in Metropolis. As he landed on the roof, he wondered what could have caused the Red-Blue Blur to bring Lois here, instead of rushing her to a hospital, where she belonged. He let himself in through the roof access and paused, listening to the murmur of voices below, before rappelling to the floor.

He was on the second story; on the floor below, a tall, dark-haired man in a red coat was speaking intently to a petite blonde. Staying well in the shadows, Batman shifted closer to the railing and listened in.

The blonde was standing in front of a large bank of computers and was speaking intently into her companion's face. "How could you do that? You know Davis is innocent! He's a good man! How could you just – "

"It was going to kill Lois, Chloe!" the tall man retorted. "Even if Davis isn't responsible for what the monster's doing, I couldn't just stand back and do nothing!"

"I'm not asking you to do nothing!" she shot back. "But you were wrong to put him in the Phantom Zone! You know what that place is like; how could you condemn an innocent man to lifetime imprisonment in that place?" When he didn't reply, or perhaps before he had a chance to, the blonde – Chloe – stepped towards him and said, "You could have gotten Lois out of there and then taken me to Smallville to talk to him. I could have calmed him down. I could have stopped him from hurting anyone!"

"So, I should have saved Lois but thrown you in the path of danger?" he scoffed. "Maybe Davis isn't dangerous, but that monster is. I needed to do something to stop him, and you know it! If I can find a way to save Davis, I will, but until then, I can't let people keep dying!"

Chloe crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at him. "And what if something happens to him in the Phantom Zone? Are you going to be able to live with yourself? You could have saved Lois and Davis at the same time!" She stepped closer to him and then dropped her voice, saying in a persuading tone, "You can get him out of there, Clark. As long as he's with me, he won't hurt anyone; I know it. You can't just leave him there." She bit her lower lip. "I never ask you for anything, but I'm asking for this. I'm asking for your help. Please."

Clark looked torn, "Chloe, I can't. You know I can't."

"You mean you won't!" she snapped back.

They faced off in silence. Batman had already determined that Lois wasn't there; the tracker must have been transferred from Lois to the Red-Blue Blur in transit. But, regardless, Batman had just learned that the people in front of him had known that Davis Bloome had been dangerous, had done nothing about it, and Lois had almost paid for that inaction with her life.

He took one step back, his boot landing almost completely silently upon the ground. He didn't know how, but it somehow got the attention of the man on the floor below. "Wait. I hear something," Clark said. Tilting his head back, he looked up to the second floor, directly where Batman was standing.

Batman didn't know how the other man had heard his movement when bat's wings were louder than his footsteps, but he'd been caught. He froze for a moment, debating, and then stepped forward into the light.

"Oh, my god, you're Batman," Chloe breathed. He didn't reply.

The Red-Blue Blur, apparently named Clark, looked far less enthusiastic to see the cowled stranger standing there. "You followed me here?"

"I was looking for Lois," he replied.

"And stayed for the conversation?" he shot back. "What are you doing outside of Gotham, anyway?"

In an attempt to protect his secret identity, Batman prevaricated, "Lois took some files from Arkham, the night of the breakout. I need to see them."

Clark considered this admission and then seemed to accept it as being possible, as he heaved an irritable sigh. "I took her to the hospital. Metropolis General. It's a better facility than they have in Smallville."

Batman nodded, and since he didn't have anything else to say, he started to move back into the shadows, intending to leave.

"Wait!" Chloe cried, stopping him in his tracks. When he turned back to face her, she shifted her weight and said in an uncertain voice, "Um…I-I've been meaning to find you for a long time, actually. I know this probably isn't the best time, since I have to get to the hospital to check on Lois. But I wanted to talk to you. About Watchtower and the League."

His curiosity piqued almost against his will, he moved to the railing and stared down at her. "Watchtower?" he finally asked.

A wide smile broke across her face. "This is Watchtower!" she said, and a ring of pride was evident in her voice. "It's a kind of…hero central. For several years now, I've made it my mission to track down heroes – like you – and…"

"'Hero' is a strong word, when it comes to Batman," the Red-Blue Blur interjected. "From what I've read, 'murderer' is more appropriate." At Chloe's dismayed hiss, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared the vigilante down. "I don't like your methods," he explained.

"I don't like yours," Batman replied. He didn't have time to waste on a man who was more interested in 'playing superhero' than in being one and doing what needed to be done.

The Red-Blue Blur had known that Davis Bloome was dangerous, and he'd chosen not to act. It was an unforgiveable transgression. The fact that Davis had apparently had a personal connection to the Red-Blue Blur and his little sidekick was of no consequence. It was the code Batman himself lived by: anyone who had the knowledge and ability to act (particularly if nobody else could do so, due to an inherent difference in capacity or in skills and training) had a duty to do so. The threat the creature had posed should have been more important than any personal feelings for the man behind the monster.

Standing as a symbol – of justice, like Batman, or of hope, as Lois had portrayed the Red-Blue Blur in her articles – wasn't something to be either pursued or ignored, depending on personal convenience. But, then, from the articles Bruce had read when he'd first tracked Lois down – most written by her – led him to wonder if Red-Blue Blur had been operating under a philosophy of personal convenience for quite a bit longer than anyone suspected.

Chloe looked from one man to the other. "Um," she said, her voice uncertain. Then she apparently decided to press forward, disregarding this exchange, and said, "As Watchtower, I work with a number of other heroes, coordinating their efforts, sending help where it's needed." Then she tried to crack a joke to break the tension in the room, "It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it!"

Batman frowned. "I'm not interested," he said, his voice curt. Alfred would be appalled by his rudeness, but he didn't care. He was having enough difficulty fighting back his anger over that they had known the danger Davis presented and had exercised an almost cavalier disregard for the safety of innocent people – and Lois – by leaving him unchecked. At any rate, Batman wasn't regarded as having exemplary manners – even as Bruce Wayne.

"Why not?" Chloe demanded irritably. "If you'd only listen, I think you'd change your mind! We have state of the art technology, and –"

But Batman wasn't interested in hearing her spiel, and while her technology was impressive for a civilian, the hardware Lucius provided to the Batcave on a regular basis raised the bar more than a little when it came to being awed. "You're wasting your time," he said, cutting her off again. "I work alone."

"But you don't have to!" Chloe tried one more time. "I know about the work you've been doing in Gotham." She turned to the computer and hit a few keys. A series of newspaper articles flashed across the various computer screens. "Although if you ask me, the quality of journalism in these stories could be better, but that's not important at the moment," she criticized as a casual aside, scanning the articles.

Many of the articles in question accused Batman of murder, but Chloe didn't comment on those accusations. Clark, however, stiffened as he scanned the headlines and threw Batman a glare of distrust, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenched his teeth; he was nowhere near as nonchalant about the severity of the allegations in question.

The screens flashed through Lois's recent articles about the Joker's escape from Arkham. Turning back to Batman, Chloe remarked, "You've been doing an incredible job, but you'd be amazed how much a team can help."

"I don't need a nanny; I work alone," he reiterated. Dismissing Chloe and her suggestion, he turned his attention back to the Red-Blue Blur. "We don't pay for our mistakes. The people close to us do," he growled in a pointed rebuke to the man who was apparently – if the conversation Batman had heard earlier was any indication – a friend of Lois's and yet had left her in harm's way.

"And Gotham is _my_ city," he finished, addressing both of them now before disappearing into the shadows and used his grappling hook to exit through the roof access. He didn't expressly tell them to stay away, his tone made it clear they weren't welcome – either as the Red-Blue Blur and Watchtower or as Clark and Chloe. He didn't care that Lois considered them her friends; after what he had overheard tonight, he didn't.

Of course, convincing her of that would be another thing entirely.

* * *

Lois was pretty sure death wasn't supposed to feel like this. Actually, she had reason to know that death wasn't supposed to be like this; it wasn't the first time she had died. Granted, she didn't really remember much about her last such experience, but she distinctly remembered it didn't feel like this.

Her last death had been relatively peaceful. Oh, certainly the act of dying had been painful and pretty all-around awful, but whatever came after wasn't so bad, in her recollection. This, however? There were not enough words in the English language to describe how much this sucked.

She'd thought her head hurt before, but now it felt like sledgehammers were pounding on the inside of her skull, trying to force their way out of her eye sockets. She was reasonably sure they were pounding her head so hard, she could feel the tremors in her teeth – which, at this rate, were minutes away from vibrating entirely out of her skull.

Her throat burned, as though she'd inhaled fire. She hadn't, had she? She was pretty sure she would remember doing something like that. She'd done a number of pretty absurd things in her life, but swallowing fire? That had to beat them all.

Lois tried to lick her lips, which felt dry and cracked – not to mention that her entire head felt about three sizes bigger than normal – but her mouth was so dry…actually, she couldn't finish that metaphor. Metaphors hurt. Breathing hurt. She hadn't even opened her eyes yet, but she was pretty sure that when she did, she'd find that blinking hurt. She could swear she could feel every hair in her head, every single one, and each and every one of them hurt. She tried to think of something that didn't hurt, but the effort caused everything to hurt even more.

She groaned, and she could feel it all the way down to the soles of her feet, which were none too pleased with the experience. She licked her lips again, though she might not have bothered, since her tongue was too dry to moisten anything. "Please," she whispered, or tried to whisper at any rate. With a soft cough, she tried again, "Please."

"Here." The warm, tender voice washed over her, and she relaxed against her pillow. After a second, she felt a straw slip between her teeth. She drank, and even that hurt – though given how desperately parched she was, she'd tolerate the pain. She released the straw with another moan, and a gentle hand brushed the hair off her forehead. "It's okay. You're going to be okay. You need another drink?"

"N-no," she rasped and then instantly changed her mind. "Yes," she groaned, trying to lift her head. The straw slipped between her lips again. She drank as much as she could and then fell back against the pillow.

It was probably time to open her eyes, which sounded like the worst idea she'd ever had but she could hardly go through the rest of her life with her eyes closed. At least she assumed she was alive since she'd already decided that death would almost certainly be less painful. So it was definitely against her better judgment that she tackled the Herculean task of lifting her eyelids.

It took a moment to focus on the figure in front of her. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over her as he held the cup of water near her face, in case she wanted another drink. Warm brown eyes were narrowed in concern; she tried to smile, but the edges of her mouth refused to entirely cooperate. "Hey," she croaked. She opened her mouth to crack a joke, but her desire to be a smartass was outweighed by her desire to not undergo any more intense physical pain.

"Don't try to talk," he murmured, offering her more water. She did her best to shake her head no without actually moving in any perceptible way.

She saw movement against the far wall and looked behind Bruce. Chloe was standing at the foot of the bed, looking worried and overall miserable. Clark was standing several feet away from her on the right side of the bed, but as usual, she couldn't read his expression. Oliver was standing next to the door, looking even more miserable than Chloe, if that were possible.

"Lois, I'm so sorry," he offered. She nodded, the movement shaking loose a filling or two in her teeth she was sure, and attempted a small smile. She wanted him to know she didn't blame him. When he came to Gotham to ask her to return to Metropolis to talk to the Red-Blue Blur, there was no way for him to know what would happen.

"The…monster?" she choked out, her eyes sweeping from face to face.

"He's gone," Oliver answered quickly. "The Red-Blue Blur took care of it." She sagged back against the pillows, feeling like she could finally relax.

Just then, Alfred walked through the door and turned to the bed with a warm smile. "Good afternoon, Miss Lane. It's good to see you awake. We were worried about you, you know. You've been asleep for almost an entire day."

"You came…this far…to see me?" Lois managed, looking back at Bruce. A ridiculous question, since what else would he be doing there? Nonetheless, she was touched.

"Well, Alfred came this far to see you," he explained. "I tried to suggest he stay home, but…he didn't agree." Behind him, Lois could see Alfred glowering at the suggestion, and she would have laughed at his expression if she could have managed it. She did accomplish something approaching a dry chuckle, though to her ears, it sounded more like a door creaking open on rusty hinges. "I didn't have to come far because, as it happened, I was already in Metropolis." At her curious look, he smiled – his expression a bit sheepish – and explained, "I missed you."

"Lois, I'm so sorry," Chloe cut in. "If I'd have known what would have happened, I never would have…I didn't mean for this to happen."

Lois assumed that Bruce had mentioned the monster's secret identity as Davis Bloome. She lifted a hand and gave a small wave, trying to comfort her cousin. "It's okay," she said. It was getting a little easier to speak, though her voice was still extremely hoarse. "I'm not mad at you. I know you never would have intentionally put me in danger."

Clark and Chloe exchanged a look that Lois couldn't interpret. Everyone looked so miserable, she wished she could think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. Oliver came to the rescue, as usual.

"So, let me get this right…you came into town to check on Lois?" he asked, glancing between Alfred and Bruce. "So…how come you can come into town and check on Lois and she's okay with it, but when I come to Gotham to check on her, she threatens to hand me my lungs?" Bruce smothered a smile but didn't respond. "Seriously, what do you two have that I don't have?"

"Charm," Alfred offered, and Bruce smothered a laugh.

The door opened and Jimmy walked into the room carrying a bouquet of flowers, but Oliver spoke over his greeting, drowning it out. "I'm charming! Lois, would you tell him that I'm charming?"

"You're very charming," Lois offered in a soft whisper, choosing not to save Oliver's dignity at the expense of her throat.

Jimmy approached the bed, walking past his wife without even a glance in her direction – undoubtedly a conscious decision on his part. "Lois, I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I heard." He paused and then added in a voice as sharp as a knife, "Jeff told me when I got to work this morning," This jab couldn't have been more directly pointed at his wife if he'd turned and addressed her directly.

"Jimmy, I'm sorry," Chloe murmured. "I would have called if I'd thought you'd answer."

He didn't respond. Instead, he handed Lois the flowers and then looked around at the group. "So what happened?" he asked. "Jeff just said she was here; he didn't tell me what happened."

Jeff – and everyone else at the Daily Planet – would know soon enough, since Lois planned to write an article about it as soon as she got out of this place. She wanted to tell everyone the whole story, but her throat hurt too much for that right now. Instead, she threw Bruce a pleading look, and he gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

"Lois went to Smallville and found Davis Bloome," he offered in her stead. "I don't know all the details, but from what she told me on the phone right before the attack, this Mr. Bloome was actually the monster who's been attacking Metropolis lately."

Lois expected any number of reactions from Jimmy upon hearing this news. Rage wasn't one of them, so it was something of a surprise when his eyes narrowed in anger and he demanded, "Davis? What was he doing in Smallville?" Behind him, Chloe was trying to get his attention, her voice desperate and apologetic, but he ignored her.

Swallowing hard, Lois offered, "Jimmy, maybe you should –"

She might as well have saved her breath for all the attention he paid her attempt to calm him. In fact, he ignored her more or less completely as he spun to face Chloe. Clark shifted closer to her, as though to save her from his anger. "What was he doing there, Chloe?" he snapped. He didn't move towards her or make any kind of threatening gesture, but she winced anyway and dropped her gaze to her feet.

"He was staying in the basement of the Talon," Bruce offered, and Lois stifled a groan. Couldn't he see he wasn't helping matters at all? Lois was trying to calm things down, not escalate a fight between Chloe and her estranged husband. Anyway, Jimmy's anger was perhaps understandable on some level, but it was still unwarranted. Chloe couldn't have known who – or what – Davis really was; Lois was sure of it.

She tried to lever into a sitting position, but she collapsed back against the pillows in shock when Jimmy barked, "You let him stay in the basement when you knew what he was? What were you thinking? Or are you going to take Davis's side over Lois, just like you did with me?"

Chloe's head shot up and she turned to Lois with desperate, pleading eyes. Thick tears were rolling down her cheeks, and her lower lip trembled. "It wasn't like that! You have to believe me!"

"You knew?" Lois breathed, still trying to take it in. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Oliver and Alfred shift closer to the bed, an oddly protective gesture.

"I didn't –" the other woman began, but Jimmy didn't give her a chance.

"She knew," he interjected angrily. "I'm sorry, Lois, but she's known for a while. I told her. I knew what Davis was; I saw him kill someone. But when I told Chloe? She didn't believe me. She said it was a drug-induced hallucination. She wouldn't even –" He swallowed, and a quick expression of pain flashed across his face. Lois could see that he wasn't just angry with Chloe; he was hurt, as well.

"It doesn't matter," he finished with a small shake of his head. "But she knew. Or, at least, she would have known if she'd bothered to give me the benefit of the doubt! I almost died for her at our wedding, and she decided to believe the creature that almost killed me over her own husband!"

"Jimmy," Clark said, his tone placating but with an edge of warning. "I know you're upset, but you need to calm down."

The other man shook his head and stalked towards the door. When Chloe stepped towards him, he shrugged off her touch. "Forget it," he growled, seemingly more to himself than to anyone else. But then he paused and looked at Lois. "I told Chloe once that marrying her was the worst mistake I ever made," he said, and though there was still anger in his voice, there was also stark pain as he shot his wife a tortured look. "If you ask me, trusting her was yours."

Chloe let out a soft sob, which was drowned out by the sound of the hospital door slamming. Other than her soft cries, the room fell into utter silence. Finally, Lois murmured her cousin's name in a voice barely above a whisper.

When the younger girl turned to face her, there was naked desperation in her expression. "Lois, please, you have to believe me! I never meant for this to happen! I know that the monster did some horrible things, but Davis was a good man. He didn't deserve –"

Lois shook her head. "Davis tried to kill me," she said. When Chloe started to protest, she cut her again. "No. _Davis_ tried to kill me. When I told him I was going to take you someplace safe, he grew…angry. Furious. He might have changed into the monster, but _he_ wanted to kill me." She swallowed again, trying to help the burning in her throat. "He even laughed."

Chloe's eyes darted from one face to another, as though looking to them for assistance. Clark looked torn, but Alfred and Bruce wouldn't meet her eyes. Lois couldn't see Oliver's face; his head was bowed, hands shoved into his pockets, and she wondered what he was thinking.

It was Clark who finally spoke. "Lois, don't be mad at Chloe. I knew about Davis, too," he offered, stepping in front of the petite blonde.

Lois appreciated that he wanted to protect Chloe, but that didn't really make her feel better. "Oh," she breathed.

Chloe looked even more miserable and said Clark's name on a low moan. "He knew that Davis was the monster, but he didn't know he was living in the basement," she finally offered in a tortured moan, reciprocating Clark's act of self-sacrifice.

She didn't say anything else, but, then again, Lois didn't know what she could possibly say to make it better. She was still trying to process it all. How could Chloe have known that Davis was so dangerous and blindly accepted that risk? Deep down, Lois was still willing to believe that Chloe wouldn't have intentionally put her in danger, but she wasn't sure that mattered. Even if Chloe had decided to put herself in danger – which Lois was hypocritically angry to find out that she would do – how could she have made that decision for everyone else?

But, then again, she hadn't. She had told Clark, it would seem, but the two of them had apparently decided that nobody else needed to know. Strike that; Jimmy had known. That Jimmy hadn't told Lois was on some level understandable – after Chloe had dismissed what he'd seen as being a byproduct of the drugs, he had to have questioned his own sanity.

But that meant that Lois was the only one left in the dark. (Oliver was, as well, but he didn't really count; he wasn't exactly a friend of either Chloe's or Clark's.) How could Chloe – or Clark, for that matter – have known what Davis was and chosen to keep that a secret from Lois? Because she would have objected to Chloe's course of action, in keeping him locked in the Talon basement?

Of course, Lois _would_ have objected to such monumental, reckless stupidity. In fact, she'd have probably called in the Marines to keep Chloe safe immediately upon hearing the news. But that was irrelevant.

Rationally, she recognized that Chloe had probably had her reasons to keep the secret. Maybe, after thinking about it a while, Lois would even come to realize that Chloe had been right to act as she had. (Granted, that was almost ludicrously improbable, but she had to admit that it was at least possible.) But it still hurt, to have been kept in the dark as she was – and not only emotionally, as her myriad bruises provided a more than adequate reminder. Hadn't Chloe trusted her?

Perhaps seeing her hurt in her face, Chloe rushed to say, "We didn't mean to hurt you, Lois! I was telling the truth; I never meant for this to happen. I just…I thought you'd be in danger, if you knew. I wanted to keep you out of it, so you'd be safe."

Lois's caught the blankets in a fist to hide their trembling as she tried to accept this statement at face value. It was difficult, however, given that Davis had almost killed her and her fear from that experience was still all too fresh. Coughing slightly to try to clear her throat, she croaked, "Is that it? Is there anything else you've kept from me for my own good?" Chloe's eyes darted to the side, and Lois knew the answer was no.

She couldn't deal with this right now. She needed time to process everything, and right now, all she could focus on was her anger, hurt, and confusion. And her lingering fear. Sinking into the pillows, she sighed. "Um, look, I'm sorry…I can't…do you guys mind if we pick this up later? I'm – I'm a little tired."

"Of course," Ollie murmured, sounding almost eager to escape the tense scene as he leaned over the bed to brush a kiss across her forehead. Clark didn't speak, and Chloe wiped her tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand and gave a miserable little nod.

Bruce started to stand, but she grabbed his hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "No," she protested softly; she hadn't meant for him to go. "Please." She needed time to process what she'd just learned about Chloe, but – while she couldn't bear to admit it – she didn't want to be alone. Not that long ago, she had genuinely thought that she was going to die, now that she found out she hadn't…well, she just needed to have him there with her a little longer, until time dissipated the memory of her earlier terror.

"It's okay," he murmured. "Let me just step outside for a moment to talk to Alfred, but I'll be right back." He kissed her, his lips a soft brush against hers to avoid re-opening the cut on her lip, and then he stood.

She watched with a heavy heart as everyone filed outside in silence until only Clark stayed behind. He stepped closer to the bed, looking uncertain. "Lois, I'm sorry about…everything. About Davis. I should have told you about him, and I would have if I'd thought anything like this would happen." Lois gritted her teeth to bite back her immediate thought, that she was already entirely sick of hearing that sentiment. She didn't doubt that they'd never thought she would be in danger, but that hadn't stopped her from nearly getting killed.

"I know this isn't the right time, but I-I wanted to…" His voice trailed off, and she could see he was uncertain how to continue. Finally, he asked softly, "Why didn't you call me? When Davis came after you, you called Bruce for help, even though you thought he was in Gotham. Why didn't you call me?"

She bit her lip, wondering if she should tell him the truth, that thing she hadn't wanted to admit, even to herself. "I didn't want…" she began, intending to tell him the numerous justifications she'd given herself when she'd decided to bypass his number. But she broke off. He was her friend; he deserved the truth.

She swallowed heavily and pushed her anger over recent revelations aside. "I didn't call you because I didn't trust…I thought there was a good chance you wouldn't care."

"Lois, how could you say that?" he asked, sounding wounded. "I know I've made mistakes, but how could you honestly think I wouldn't be there for you?"

Because he'd made it clear how very unimportant she was to him. At least, she wasn't important to him any time that he had the slightest thing better to do. It wasn't just recent events that had given her that impression, either; time and time again, she'd been given reason to believe that Clark might have considered her a friend, but that didn't mean he put her very high on his priority list.

It certainly didn't help that she might not be in the hospital at the moment if he – or Chloe, for that matter – had trusted her.

She couldn't say any of that aloud, but she wondered if he could read her thoughts in her eyes. He stared at her for a long moment and then looked away and swallowed, and she could swear he looked…sorry? Ashamed? In an instant, the expression was gone and his expression went blank. He was stonewalling her, as usual.

Grabbing her hand, he gave it a small squeeze. "I'm glad you're okay," he said. "I just want you to know…if you'd called me, I would have been there for you." She didn't know how to respond, so she looked away. She felt his presence as he stood next to her in silence for a long moment and then said in a voice almost too low for her to hear, "If you ever need me, I still will."

She swallowed, blinking back the tears that burned the back of her eyes because she realized that, as much as she wanted to believe him, she didn't see how she could. But she didn't turn again until she heard the door close softly behind him as he left the room.

* * *

In the hallway, Bruce pulled Alfred aside with the intent of telling the older man to get things ready for Lois, as he intended to bring her back to Gotham with him. However, Alfred – as usual – was a step ahead of him. He'd already started to make arrangements and had notified the Daily Planet to anticipate Lois's request for a leave of absence while she recovered from her injuries.

So Bruce told him about the Bat's condition, so that he could request a pick-up from Lucius, and then he turned back towards the hospital room. As he turned, he looked intently over at Chloe. She was standing against a wall, staring miserably down at her feet. She kept shooting looks at Jimmy out of the corner of her eye. He stood several feet away, his hands shoved in his pockets, and did the same.

Kids.

He almost bumped into Clark as the other man left Lois's room – significantly later than everyone else, Bruce noted. He tried to stifle his sudden stab of jealousy. He tried to scoot around the other man, but Clark blocked his path. So he looked up and asked, almost in challenge, "Yes?"

Clark closed the door gently behind him as he met Bruce's eyes. "I'm sure you're eager to get back to Lois, but I just…I wanted to talk to you about something." Bruce lifted one eyebrow in question. "You know…someone once told me that the people close to us pay for our mistakes. I don't want that to be Lois."

Bruce wondered if Clark was indicating that he knew Batman's secret identity. But he hid his suspicion and forced a chuckle. "Ironic, given the reason we're here. Did everything work out the way you'd intended?"

"No," Clark admitted. "But that doesn't mean I don't worry about her." He paused and then pushed his hair off his forehead with one hand. "I've read the stories about – the Joker," he finished after a short but significant pause. "I just don't want her in danger."

Bruce frowned. "I don't intend to put her in danger, Clark. I intend to take her home." He pushed past Clark to the door, letting himself into Lois's hospital room. As he walked inside and shut the door, he grunted and rubbed his shoulder, reflecting that he should probably not try to physically outmaneuver Clark again. It would have been easier and less painful to hip-check a tank.


	18. Upping the Ante

**Chapter 18**

**Upping the Ante**

Lois was a terrible patient. She didn't mean to be, and heaven knew the number of injuries she'd sustained over her life should have given her sufficient practice. But she'd never been very good at propping her feet up and taking it easy when there was work to be done, so lying in a sick bed for even so much as a day was sheer torture.

By the time Alfred pulled up in front of Wayne Manor, Lois had been lying in a hospital bed for a full day (that she was conscious; she had apparently been in the hospital for quite a bit longer) and then had spent a long stint in a car in the drive back to Gotham. Granted, she couldn't entirely complain since the car in question was definitely more comfortable and possibly more spacious than her last hotel room, but that didn't change the fact that Lois was itching to get out of it.

When the car finally pulled to a stop and the deep purr of the engine broke off abruptly, she was ready to launch herself out of the vehicle and make a break for the Manor's massive entrance, but it seemed her hosts had other plans. She managed to climb out of the back seat without help – though the effort took a great deal longer than usual and earned her a stern stare of rebuke from Alfred – but that was as far as she got on her own volition. She hadn't even taken a full step before Bruce swept her into his arms and cradled her against his chest.

She gasped as she felt her feet swept out from under her but her surprise quickly changed to irritation. Her eyes narrowed, she glowered at Bruce, even as her arms looped around his neck. "You know, I can walk," she pointed out in a grumpy growl. The fact that he could lift and carry her so easily, not even laboring for breath as he carried her up the front steps, was actually pretty sexy but she wasn't about to tell him that.

"I'm sure you can," he murmured in a placating tone.

She expected him to follow this up with some kind of excuse – like Alfred would give him hell if he let her do so – but he didn't, so she prompted, "So are you going to put me down now?"

"No. I'm carrying you inside. Deal with it," he said without even the slightest hint of apology.

"Remind me sometime to tell you how much arrogance really isn't attrac – wait!" she yelped, breaking off in mid-thought.

Bruce froze, and he shifted her very gently against his body. "I'm sorry; did I hurt you?" he asked in concern.

Biting her lower lip, she shook her head. "No, I just…um…" She paused and craned her neck and looked over her shoulder at the entrance. Alfred had rushed ahead and was holding the door open for them, and Bruce had been about to step over the threshold when he'd halted at her cry.

Now that she had his attention, she was at a loss as to what to say – how to explain without sounding just a little bit insane. He was about to carry her over the threshold like a husband would carry his new bride after the wedding. But surely it was absurd for her to put such significance upon such thing, and for her to give this moment such weight – or even admit that she'd picked up on the possible symbolism – would probably give Bruce the wrong impression. Best-case scenario, he'd think she was still suffering from the blows to her head. It was more likely he'd think she was suggesting something; it could hardly be the first time one of his dates had broadly hinted marriage.

She couldn't explain her outburst without sounding foolish, so she finished lamely, "You really can put me down. I'm a little sore; I'm not incapacitated."

Bruce's eyes flickered towards the door before locking on hers. Then he responded to her sentiment with a noncommittal hum as he stepped over the threshold and into the foyer. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd guessed her previous thoughts or picked up on the symbolism, but if he wasn't going to comment on her brief moment of insanity, she wasn't going to press the issue.

His long strides quickly covered the distance across the foyer, and when she realized he was heading for the stairs, she groaned. "You're not taking me to bed, are you?" she grumbled.

He paused, and the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile. "Oh, how I've dreamed of hearing you ask me that in just that tone of voice," he teased. "I didn't know the prospect of me taking you to bed fills you with such dread. It's somewhat…deflating."

She glowered at him in return and shifted her weight until, with obvious reluctance, he put her gently back on her feet. "If I thought _that_ was going to happen, I'd have a different tone. But I know that's not what you had in mind."

"Oh, I had it in mind," he said in an undertone. "It's just not a good idea right now. And you heard what the doctors said; you need to take it easy for a few days or you're going to make yourself worse."

Her snort more than adequately conveyed her disdain. "And you always listen to doctors?" she asked derisively. "Like they know what they're talking about."

Bruce seemed to be struggling to fight back a chuckle, but he managed to respond in all seriousness, "I don't often take on Godzilla by myself like you apparently did, but if I ever got as injured as you are, I'd listen to my doctors, yes."

Behind her, Lois could hear Alfred choke, and she turned to him to see a look of abject torture on his face. The poor man was visibly torn between scoffing at his ward's statement – from Bruce's behavior following the fight in the alley, Lois had no doubt what kind of patient he made – and appearing to agree with it, if only to get Lois to do as the doctors recommended.

"May I suggest the library, Miss Lane?" Alfred finally offered, his surprisingly unperturbed tone belying the flush that mottled his face in the wake of his struggle to maintain his usual dignified air.

It was a compromise. Lois hated compromise. Still, she supposed she could either agree or she could argue with Bruce until he resorted to tethering her to the bed – which she wouldn't necessarily object to, under other circumstances. "Fine," she grumbled; she was agreeing to compromise, there was nothing that said she had to do so with good grace.

Her petulance was apparently the last straw on Bruce's self-restraint because he chuckled aloud and swept her back into his arms. She let out a soft cry and demanded, "What was that for? It's not like the library is far away; I could have walked, you know."

"I know," he agreed. "But that look of irritation on your face is its own reward. It's also adorable." His smile faded, however, when Lois elbowed him in the ribs, her own way of expressing appreciation over his compliment.

After Bruce carried Lois into the library, he lowered her gently onto the large, comfortable couch carefully positioned to get the perfect amount of natural light from the large exterior windows. He helped her shrug out of her coat and then, to her surprise, he didn't protest when she jumped (well, rose somewhat carefully but as quickly as she could under the circumstances) to her feet and started to pace around the room. Perhaps he understood, better than he let on, how difficult it was for a woman like her to be restricted to a life of inactivity for several days.

She paused by a bookcase and scanned the rows of neatly arranged books, not really registering any of the titles. Trailing one finger along the coarse spines, she noted that no dust marred their pages, although she wasn't surprised. She couldn't see how dust would dare intrude on Alfred's domain.

Bruce was quiet for so long, during her entire circuit around the room and her lengthy perusal of the books, she thought perhaps he'd left. However, when she turned, she saw that he was still seated on the sofa and that he was watching her closely. Certain he was looking for any signs of pain, she threw him a cheeky smile. "Are you here for my company, or are you concerned I'm going to get into trouble?"

She was hoping he would respond in kind – with mild flirtation and a pointed dismissal of her recent injuries – but she couldn't pretend to be surprised when he refused to take the bait. "Maybe a little of both," he admitted as he rose to his feet and stepped forward. "You know, there was a moment when I thought I'd never get to see you standing here again. Are we ever going to talk about that?"

Lois frowned and turned her back on him, addressing her response to the bookshelves, "That's not my style; I'm not really the kind of girl to dwell on the past. This isn't the first time I've almost died in the line of duty, and I'm sure it won't be the last. If I let that kind of thing get to me, I wouldn't be able to do my job, and that's just…that's not acceptable to me."

He put his hand on her shoulder. "But this wasn't about a story," he pointed out. "This was about your cousin. I know you were hurt when you found out that she knew about Davis all along." His tone made it clear that he thought she needed to talk about it.

She stiffened under his hand. "What happened with Chloe…Chloe and Clark, I guess I should say…I don't want to discuss it. I know that she…I'm hurt by what happened and even a little angry, but at the same time…" she sighed and shook her head. "I know I have other family members, but for all intents and purposes, Chloe been closer to me than either the General or Lucy. Certainly in the last couple of years. And I thought…" she bit her lip and picked at the top spine of one of the books, absentmindedly trying to pull it away from the adhesive headband. "I don't know. I love her, so I keep trying to make it okay, because I know she didn't mean to put me in that situation. And Clark has been a friend; he may not be perfect, but I know he would never have intentionally put me in danger, either.

"But at the same time, I can't help but think that they didn't tell me because they didn't trust me, and maybe it's stupid, but that…" She paused and gave her head a fierce toss, as though trying to shake away her thoughts. "I don't want to talk about it, because…if I talk about it, I have to admit that it isn't just this; Chloe all but admitted that there are probably a lot of things they haven't told me because maybe they don't trust me. I have to admit that, maybe it shouldn't, but it hurts. I have to admit that I'm angry. I don't want to be because she's been the closest person to me in the world, so I'm even angrier that I have to wonder if that's even true."

She fell silent, lost in the thoughts she had been trying so hard to push out of her mind. It was hard not to remember her hurt, her anger, or the fear that gave her nightmares when she closed her eyes. She just couldn't seem to make Chloe's actions totally okay, in her mind, but she desperately wished she could. On some level, she sympathized; she just couldn't understand.

But if she could find a way to understand, to make what Chloe did okay in her own mind, then everything could go back to the way it had been. She could go back to that sense of security that came from knowing that her friends cared about her and would never put her in harm's way. That they trusted her every bit as much as Lois trusted them.

The ironic thing was that, if Chloe had asked Lois to risk her life to save Davis, Lois would have done so without a thought. Just because Chloe had asked her to, just as she had jumped into the path of danger when she thought her cousin's life was on the line. But that didn't happen, and Lois couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't really because Chloe had wanted to keep Lois safe but because she didn't think Lois could be trusted with something so important. This wasn't the first sign that Lois had noticed that Chloe might not really trust her; it was, however, the one she couldn't manage to ignore or excuse away.

But she didn't know how to explain any of that, certainly not to Bruce when she couldn't even really make sense of it herself. She'd grown up with a father and a sister, but with no concept of what it felt like to have a home or a family who would love you and be there for you, no matter what. While she knew her father loved her, she had never truly believed, deep down, that love was unconditional. And her relationship with her sister had been so rocky for so long, sometimes she'd wondered, growing up, if Lucy really loved her at all.

For the first time, with Chloe – and with Clark – she'd felt like she had a home, that she'd found her family. People who loved her unconditionally and trusted her the way she trusted them. The fact that she even had to wonder now if that had all been a lie hurt even more than all the physical injuries she'd suffered at Davis's hand.

So it had to be okay. She had to find a way to make it okay.

She swallowed heavily and looked over her shoulder at Bruce. "I mean, on some level it's kind of admirable, right? I'm the f-first person who would…who would st-stand up for a f-friend. M-Maybe I would ha-have done the s-same, right?" She was pleading with him, almost begging him to absolve Chloe of her actions, hoping that she could then do the same. She was trying to fight back the wave of sadness as she blinked back her tears, but it was causing her to stutter as her breath caught in the back of her throat. She turned to face him completely. "W-wouldn't I have d-done the s-same thing?"

He went very quiet, brushing a traitorous tear off her cheek, and when he finally spoke, it was almost too soft for her to hear. "No. I'm sorry, Lois. You would have done anything to help a friend, but not like that. She didn't just put you in danger; she put everyone in Smallville – in Metropolis – in danger. I just can't imagine that you would ever do that."

Lois squeezed her eyes shut, bowed her head, and nodded. She knew he was right, but she still didn't want to face that right now because she didn't know what to do with it if she did. She loved Chloe – and, to an extent, Clark. She was hurt, not just physically but emotionally, as well. She was angry, and it wasn't something that could be fixed as easily as it had been broken. Maybe she'd eventually be able to get past it, but not right now.

When she finally had control of herself again, she said, "You know, even though I'm mad at her, that doesn't mean that I'm turning my back on her for good. That's just not how I am when it comes to someone I love. If she called me tomorrow and told me she needed me, I'd be there for her." It was a promise but also an odd sort of warning – not just for Bruce to expect that of her when it came to Chloe and Clark but also how she was increasingly coming to feel about him.

"I know," he admitted. "But just so you know, I won't be."

She nodded, accepting his anger at face value. Perhaps one day, she'd ask him to forgive Chloe and Clark for her sake, but she could hardly do so now when she hadn't yet managed to forgive them herself.

While she was distracted, he wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her to the sofa, gently lowering her onto the soft cushions before turning to grab a glass of water. She assumed Alfred had brought it in, since she doubted Bruce had ever left the room and was reasonably certain water glasses didn't just spontaneously materialize inside the walls of Wayne Manor. However, since she didn't know when Alfred had done so and therefore didn't know what he might have overheard, her cheeks flushed.

She took a deep gulp of water to hide her embarrassment and rubbed her throat at the lingering pain. Her voice was certainly better than it had been in the hospital, but it was by no means back to normal. In an attempt at levity in an attempt to dispel the tense mood from a moment before, she joked, "You know, if all the socialites in Gotham knew you had such good bedside manner, I bet they'd intentionally get injured to lure you in."

He frowned thoughtfully and teased her, "Is that what this was all about?"

Her smile grew stronger. "No. But with this voice, I think I could audition to be Batwoman. What do you think?"

She was a little taken aback by the piercing gaze he shot her at this remark. Did he honestly think she was about to throw on a pair of tights and take on the villains of Gotham? Because, frankly, she'd been pooped on by enough bats as it was; she didn't have any inclination to have any more of her favorite outfits ruined by nocturnal flying rodents, no matter how oddly sexy she had found their human counterpart. In fact, whenever she _did _get to sit him down for an interview, she fully intended to suggest to him that he change his inspiration to something a little less…prone to indiscriminate defecation. In point of fact, her up-close-and-personal introduction to his little animal buddies had caused a serious hit to his sex appeal.

Finally, however, she saw an almost imperceptible release of tension between his shoulders as he took the empty glass from her hand and set it aside. "Hm," he said, pretending to consider her words. He grabbed her hand and stroked its back with his thumb. "Well, I'd rather you didn't. I'm not sure my heart could take it."

Lois heaved a mock sigh and shrugged. Then she winced in pain. "Don't worry about it," she said grimly. "I think in the future, I'll stick to reporting the story and not _being_ the story."

"Well, I hate to break the hearts of the Gotham socialites, as you suggested, but the only person I plan to have experience my bedside manner any time in the near future is you." He turned her hand over and trailed his fingers over her palm. "And speaking of my heart not being able to take it…"

She chuckled, but it lacked any hint of real humor. "You and me both, Bruce." She linked her fingers in his and then stared down at the way their hands, joined together. "You know, I don't know if I ever thanked you for…" Her voice trailed off and she swallowed, not really knowing what to say. She tried again, "You came when I called, and I just…that really meant a lot to me. Thank you."

He squeezed her hand in his, and she felt comforted by the warmth and strength in the palm pressed against hers. "You don't have to thank me," he said in a grave tone. "I'll always be there for you when you need me."

Her smile was a little shaky. "You can't promise that," she said in a tremulous voice. "You don't know what's going to happen in the future. And didn't you tell me you weren't one for looking towards the future?"

She tried to break the serious mood with a joke, but he wasn't taking the bait. "Not normally," he admitted. "But you make me wish I did."

Lois had a habit. It was, admittedly, not a habit of which she was terribly proud. But it was a habit nonetheless. When she started to feel like she was starting to get emotionally attached to someone – that she was letting someone get close to her – she had a tendency to balk. It was a defense mechanism she'd developed growing up as an Army brat, being carted around like a piece of luggage to bases all around the world by her dad, and perhaps the one area of her life in which she might give in to cowardice. It had been honed by numerous poor relationship choices, experiences that had taught her that letting someone get close just meant they were in a prime position to rip out her heart when they decided to it was time to leave her behind.

Bruce's statement made her want to flee to Borneo rather than address its implications. She shot a quick glance at the window, calculating whether she could make a jump for it without ending up in the hospital, even more injured, or at least completely mortified.

But at the same time, while one part of her wanted to give in to panic, another part of her felt…safe, curled up by his side, his arm wrapped around her, her hand held tightly in his. Like he would never let her go, even if it meant following her to Borneo.

The warring impulses were too much for her to reconcile at the moment, so she did the only thing she could think to do: she put off having to do so and deflected the situation. She turned her head so he couldn't see her face and asked, "Well, you know what I need right now? I need some rest." She risked throwing him a sheepish smile, hoping he wouldn't read more on her face. "It's been a long couple of days."

"Of course," he said, leaning down to brush a kiss across her forehead. Then he stood and, after making sure she was comfortable, left the room for she could get some sleep. As the door closed behind him, Lois lay back on the sofa and then, after one quick glance to ensure she was still alone, she reached for the coat she'd discarded earlier.

Pressing her lips together, she slipped her hand into one of the deep pockets in the coat and pulled out the bag of personal effects she'd been given when she checked out of the hospital. She'd already removed most of the items it had carried but had left one inside. She pulled it out now.

The smooth metal object, formed in the shape of a bat, was cold to her touch when it hit her palm. She stared at it in contemplative silence and she ran a finger along its sharp edges. When she was about to pass out, she'd thought she'd hallucinated her rescue by Batman. She didn't know how it had been included in her personal effects, but this bat-shaped piece of metal…whatever was proof that it had been real.

It was a little convenient, that she'd called Bruce for help and Batman had shown up not long thereafter. Everyone knew that Batman operated out of Gotham; he certainly wasn't known for frequenting Smallville, Kansas – not as far as Lois knew. That he'd seemingly decided to visit a small town in the middle of Nowheresville, Kansas for the first time just when Lois desperately called Bruce for help couldn't have been a coincidence. Could it?

Could Bruce Wayne be Batman? That didn't make sense…did it? And how did she feel about it, if it was true?

Admittedly, she didn't have enough to go on at the moment to make that determination. One instance, which admittedly could have been happenstance – unlikely as it was, it was possible. She certainly wasn't ready to confront anyone with her suspicions. After all, if Bruce was Batman, then Alfred would have to have known about it. She had a hard time imagining that Alfred would be content with the idea of his ward strapping on some body armor and taking on some of Gotham's most dangerous criminals every night. That was definitely one big flaw in her theory.

With a thoughtful frown, she slid the bat-shaped piece of metal into her pocket, not wanting anyone, particularly Bruce, to see it until she'd had a little more time to put her doubts regarding Batman's true identity to rest. Then she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

When Bruce returned to the library several hours later, he watched as Lois pulled a book off a shelf, peered behind it, and put it back. Then she pulled out the next book and did the same thing. Intrigued, he remained completely silent as he crept forward, watching as she repeated her odd ritual a third time.

Finally, he couldn't take it any longer, so he asked, "What are you doing?"

Lois yelped as his voice pierced the silence and dropped the book she'd been holding. It hit the ground with a loud thud, and she turned to glower at him before bending to pick it up and then sliding it into place. "If you must know," she grumbled, "I was looking for secret passages."

Bruce felt himself go very still as he mulled over that statement. Was she telling him that she'd figured out his secret? And what would he do if she had?

But before he could figure out any of the answers to these questions – or even fully process how he felt about her finding out his secret – she continued in a mild voice that betrayed no hidden agenda, "I've played _Clue_, you know. I know these old mansions have all sorts of dusty, unused passageways. I figured if I'm going to be cooped up here while you insist I 'take it easy,' I might as well try to find some." She pulled out another book. "I can't remember if the library leads to the kitchen or the conservatory…"

It took him a second to realize she was talking about the game again. "The kitchen, but you're thinking about the study." Stepping forward, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against a bookshelf, using his new vantage point to stare at her profile. He couldn't explain why, but he found himself utterly fascinated by the little crease that formed between her eyes when she frowned in concentration.

"Anyway," he added, making sure to sound nonchalant, "there may have been hidden tunnels in the past, I suppose, but you're forgetting we had to rebuild after the fire. I can assure you, we don't have any unused secret passages hidden in the library now." He paused, then mused, "Although, now that I think of it, I wish I'd thought of putting in some in. Just imagine how useful they would be."

Lois sighed and replaced the book in her hand; she had continued her search while he spoke. Then she turned to him. "Okay, well, do you have any other ideas? I don't mind saying, I'm monumentally bored. I don't mean to be rude, but staying inside and taking it easy? It really isn't my thing. If I don't get out of here soon, I'm going to lose my mind."

He smiled at her. "Well, I suppose looking for hidden treasure is one way to pass the time," he teased.

She tilted her head to the side, her eyes sweeping his body, and then threw him a suggestive smile. "You know" she began, stepping towards him. "I can think of another."

He groaned; she was torturing him with temptation while his better angels were doing everything they could to remind him that she was supposed to take it easy. "You're injured, remember?"

"I'm injured. I'm not dead," she pointed out.

"Well, you're killing me," he grunted, almost under his breath. When her grin widened, he knew she'd heard him. She didn't seem inclined to show him mercy, however; instead, she stopped in front of him and placed her hands on his chest, running her fingers down his chest to his stomach.

But, wait. He was clever, and he'd had his share of injuries, in his life. Surely he could find a way to make love to her without exacerbating his injuries. Or perhaps he was deluding himself. But he figured it was worth a shot.

He wrapped his arms around her, slipping his hands under the bottom of her sweater. He stroked the soft, smooth skin on her back, and he felt her shudder against his hand. He bowed his head and brushed his lips against the curve of her neck, right below her ear. She sighed and lifted her arms, and he took the opportunity to pull off her sweater and throw it aside.

Placing one hand on his chest, she pushed him backwards. He grinned and played along as she maneuvered him in front of the sofa and pushed him down. However, he at least had the presence of mind to exercise caution as he carefully wrapped his hands around Lois's bruised ribs and steadied her as she placed her knees on the sofa cushions on either side of him and straddled his lap.

He swept his hands up her ribcage and across her breasts, brushing her hair back over her shoulders. Then he cupped her neck in his hand and pulled her down for a kiss.

Things were just getting interesting when Bruce heard a knock on the door. He groaned in irritation, the sound swallowed by Lois's mouth, and broke off the kiss to yell in the direction of the door, "Not now!"

The door cracked open just wide enough for Alfred to call inside without actually entering the room, "Master Bruce, I don't mean to interrupt –"

"This isn't a good time," Bruce reiterated through gritted teeth.

"I just received a phone call –" Alfred charged ahead apologetically, heedless of Bruce's words.

Bruce sighed. "Alfred? You're fired," he growled.

"Something has happened at Wayne Enterprises," Alfred finished, and for the first time, Bruce heard the real concern in his voice.

A bucket of cold water couldn't have been a more effective way to ruin the mood. Bruce locked eyes with Lois – a worried frown creased her brow – and helped her rise gingerly to her feet. As he waited for her to pull on her sweater, he mused with some degree of irritated frustration that this wasn't the first time that his nocturnal investigations had taken him away from the woman in front of him, just when things were getting interesting. These types of interruptions probably wouldn't have been so commonplace in his life if he really was just Bruce Wayne, millionaire playboy.

There were times – not often, but increasingly as of late – that Bruce really hated being Batman.

But this was hardly the moment to decide to put the cowl behind him – not with the Joker and several Arkham inmates still free in his city. Not with whatever had happened at his company that was so important, Alfred had insisted upon interrupting at a very inopportune moment.

So he pushed aside his thoughts of what might have been and called to his butler to come in and tell him what was going on. As he had done a million times before, he forgot all about his life as Bruce Wayne and focused instead on what Gotham needed of the Batman.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Master Bruce," Alfred said as he walked into the room. "I just received a phone call from the police. It seems some anonymous letters have been sent to various people within your company, including yourself and Mr. Fox. When Mr. Fox opened the letter," at this, Alfred paused, searching for a way to tactfully proceed, and Bruce felt his stomach clench. "There was a mysterious powder inside. The police are testing it now, but they believe it may be…a biological agent."

Bruce's eyes narrowed as he digested these words. Lucius Fox was a friend – one of the few he could claim. That someone had targeted him was not something Bruce would easily forget. He considered the Joker, for a moment, but dismissed the thought just as quickly. This wasn't the Joker's style; it wasn't flashy enough.

As he pondered who else would do such a thing, he felt someone step close to him and take his hand. He looked down at the fingers laced in his somewhat in surprise; for a moment, he had forgotten that he wasn't alone. But when he looked up into Lois's eyes, he saw that she was looking at him in concern.

"You should go," she said softly. "They need you, Bruce." There it was again, that question whether or not she was implying she knew who he was, and he was at a loss how to respond. Then she added, "The press are going to be all over this story; they probably are already. People are going to be terrified, wondering whether this is an isolated event and who's behind it – whether it's the Joker or somebody else.

"You're the head of the company, and you've done great things for this city. Right now, they need to know that you're there." Taking both her hands in his, she moved in close and murmured, "Sometimes Gotham needs Batman, but sometimes it needs Bruce Wayne. This is one of those times."

He paused and exchanged a quick look with Alfred. Then he nodded. His first instinct had been to pull on the cowl and investigate as Batman, but there would be time for that later. Right now, Lois was right. Gotham needed Bruce Wayne.


End file.
